Crucible
by PitaEnigma
Summary: With the explosion of the Crucible, four warriors are transported to a new reality. But can they survive this strange new world - and each other? Originally posted on SB, now being posted here when I finish chapters.
1. Prologue 1

This was a good death, Mar decided.

Grall had died first. A praetorian. Picked him up with one spike, impaled him on another, and _pulled_. He would have been impressed were it not his krantt being ripped apart. The rest of clan Jorgal died as well, around him. A great line being extinguished was tragic, but in combat?

He coughed up blood, trying to laugh. You had to laugh. The Citadel above them had long since stopped firing its beam. Whatever Shepard what doing, it seemed to be working. At least they would be killed by collector forces, and not by a Reaper's plasma. It always seemed like cheating, to him, using guns. He never liked it.

His hammer lay next to him. A warlord should never be unarmed.

Should never…

Unarmed. Like the Scion that did him in. It should have known better than to try to lift a Krogan. Its arm lay on the asphalt. So did most of its organs.

Humans. Paved over decent earth, creating roads. Why not just build better vehicles? A mako can climb over mountains, with the right driver.

His mind was going, he realized. It was blood loss.

Should have noticed that grenade. Scions… grenade wielding pieces of shit. His own grenade belt was long empty. He grabbed the handle of his hammer. A warrior should not die without his weapon.

He coughed again, looking up at the Citadel in the sky. It was beautiful from this angle. He should have destroyed it during the rebellions.

It started to glow. It was still beautiful. The light filled the sky.

He would wake up somewhere else.

* * *

The husks didn't stop coming. It was ridiculous.

You fight people, eventually they realize they will die. All were the same in that. Asari would leave you alone, Salarians and Turians would try to kill you from a distance, and Krogans laugh and run in anyway. But they react.

Husks just climbed over their dead and tried to get at him. And his whips obliterated them. His arms were getting tired, and they just wouldn't stop.

He released a singularity, taking the momentary lull to look back.

The Alliance forces behind him had collapsed. Where there previously stood a tank, surrounded by soldiers, was a Banshee and a pile of glowing metal.

He screamed in anger, and charged.

It had no effect. The banshee seemed to regard him, somewhat quizzically, then grabbed him.

The sky above him began to glow. Both him and the banshee looked up.

He found himself in a dark street, in a different city.

* * *

"Fire in the hole!" Kara screamed, throwing another grenade into the horde.

This was great. It was her and her squad against a group of enemy… things. She wasn't quite sure what they were, but they exploded beautifully. And they released a horde of small things, which also exploded beautifully.

Grenades were beautiful.

Jerry was kneeling next to her, quietly kneeling and picking out targets. He was so boring… You'd think someone in a cape, with a sword, shooting laser beams out of his hand, would be a fun person to be around. But he took himself so seriously.

That was probably why he was team leader and she wasn't.

Because she was having the time of her life. London had fallen, sure. They were in a suicide mission doomed to fail and reliant on someone she had never met. They were going to die.

But she had more grenades and missiles than anyone would know what to do with. And her rifle?

What a work of art. Cerberus were monsters, and everything they did failed. Except for the Harrier. Talk about improving a classic.

So if she had to go, she was going in style. And style was throwing grenades like there was no tomorrow, and allowing her suit's systems fire rockets indiscriminately – it wasn't like the allied line was anywhere near them.

The enemy line was, though. A Brute. She hated those. Nothing should be able to take a grenade and keep moving like it doesn't matter. But the #1 rule of shooting still applied: Aim for the head. After throwing a grenade of course.

While she fired at the brute, someone on the other side seemed to have the same idea. Jerry had lost his head. It seemed to be in multiple places. Some of it got on her.

No time to worry about that, though. She threw another grenade. Inside the electric field, the monster finally got her point, and fell to the ground.

She didn't even notice when the flash of light from the sky consumed her.

When she came to her senses, it was raining. And she was in a completely different place.

* * *

The Geth looked down its scope. Inwardly, their runtimes were completing calculations, computing wind speed, planetary rotation, obstructions, and the effect of relativistic motion on half a kilogram of ferrous liquid. Outwardly, it was still. It corrected its aim, and pulled the trigger.

Five kilometers away, an Oculus fell to the ground as a round passed through a demolished office building, a radio tower, and a harvester, and found its mark in the Oculus's eye. It fell to the ground, crushing the bodies of dead Turians.

Eject boiling hot clip. Reload new one. Find new target. Aim. Fire.

A banshee and a brute fell, identical holes in their heads.

Eject boiling hot clip. Reload new one. Find new target. Aim. Fire.

A praetorian bearing down on a group of Krogan. Its beam fires into the sky as it collapses.

Eject boiling hot clip. Reload new one. Find new target. Aim. Fire.

A brute, bearing down on an N7 squad. A miscalculation – as the geth squeezes the trigger, it notes the legs of the brute giving away. A waste of a clip.

Its last one.

It cloaks. The runtimes calculate the fastest route to one of the many small headquarters where it can reload. It notes the glowing from the Citadel in the sky as an irrelevance, seven of the runtimes diverted momentarily from their tasks to process and store the information.

Its runtimes all recalculate when its surroundings change to a different city.


	2. Prologue 2

Initial Investigation Report

Filed by: Armsmaster

Date: 04/10/11

Details of the Incident: During routine patrol, I heard what sounded like gunfire. I drove towards the sound, where I found a woman in a black skinsuit, with a mask (attempted reproduction at end of report).I ascertained the following.

\- If she was in search of an altercation. This question was mostly asked in response to her choice of costume – As it is, it appears of the kind a villain would wear. She answered that she was not.

\- She claimed not to need medical assistance, though she seemed shocked.

\- She claimed to have a power that controls insects and arachnids.

\- According to her, the following transpired. She went out to patrol in an attempt to be a hero, when she saw men with guns wearing ABB colors, lead by a man in a dragon mask. When their leader instructed them to shoot children, she sent bees and spiders to attack them. While the men fired blindly into the air in panic, their leader began to heal quickly, transforming. At this point, she claims, there was a flash of light and a "monster" appeared. She describes it as eight feet tall, with a hammer. It immediately set to beating the man with it, creating what she described as "Electric and fiery explosions". It was at this point she fled the scene in fear, and met me.

\- When asked about joining the Wards, she seemed unsure. I explained that being in the Wards would help prevent her being caught in altercations like the one she witnessed, but she remained unsure. I felt pressing her would create a negative image, so I stopped asking her any more.

\- Nothing she said registered as a lie to my lie detector.

At this point, I went to the scene of the crime. Pictures are also included at the end of the report. I did not interfere with it. Note the depressions the bodies are in, and the blood trails indicating they flew a distance.

Conclusions -

1\. New cape is a girl, approximately high school age. May be amenable to joining Wards. Tentatively assigned a Master 2 ranking for her power to control bugs. I recommend to keep an eye out for her in future patrols. As this was after midnight on a school night and it was her first night out, I would also recommend keeping an eye out for absent students.

2\. The leader of the gang is obviously Lung, as he is the only ABB cape with a Brute rating. This was also the conclusion of the girl.

3\. The children to which he referred are probably the Wards. Recommend reducing their patrol schedule, especially in areas with a large ABB presence. Other options are children of other gang leaders, but as that would go against cape etiquette, it is unlikely – Lung has generally followed those rules, preferring not to draw undue attention to himself.

4\. The "monster" is likely another cape. I believe he is a high level Brute. From the girl's description, it would resemble a Case 53. However, it could also be the product of a traumatized mind. Comparisons to other local Brutes and Masters make it unlikely that it is a local – As it is only one, it is likely not Fenja or Menja of Empire 88. Trainwreck is a possibility, but unlikely as he does not wield weaponry, and doesn't have a body count. I do not believe he would throw caution to the wind in this way. Hellhound has killed in the past, but none of the damage correlates to her dogs. The new cape may be a vigilante, or a new villain trying to create a reputation for themselves. I recommend extreme caution when encountering him – the body count in the alley, and the force with which the men were hit, shows an extreme lack of restraint. If sighted and identified, I recommend calling only capes who have a Brute rating or can fight high level Brutes – Either myself, Assault, Battery, or Dauntless.

5\. It is uncertain what exactly happened in that alley. The lack of the body of either Lung or the new cape suggests the loser was taken away, or that they parted amicably. A sighting of one or the other is therefore of utmost importance – We do not want to be in the dark. The brevity of the fight indicates Lung had not reached an upper potential. I highly recommend increasing surveillance in the areas he is known to frequent.


	3. Prologue 3

Gary woke up to a metallic hand on his face, and a red flashlight in his eyes. He tried to scream, but found it muffled. He tried again, and failed. Maybe the third time was the charm?

It wasn't.

He kicked out with his leg, and hit more metal. He tried to curl up in pain, but was stopped by another arm holding his legs now.

"Are you going to scream again?" A voice spoke. Even the voice was metallic. Had one of his inventions decided to go beyond exploding, and rebelled?

He shook his head, trying to blink away the tears of pain. The hand was removed from his face.

"Now you will answer our questions honestly. We will know if you lie." The voice said.

"Okay! Just don't kill me!" He tried to say it without screaming, silently praying James would come by. There was no reason to expect him to, at this hour, but it was better than nothing.

"Are you the entertainer known as Leet?"

"Fuck, dude, don't you know the rules? You can't just ask someone that."

"Explain." The voice said. The light grew brighter.

"The unwritten rules! You don't go to a cape's fucking home, while they are fucking sleeping, and attack them!" Gary definitely was screaming now. His mouth got covered again.

"Are you going to raise your voice again?" The voice asked. It was odd… it used the same monotone.

"Mmm mmm..." Gary tried to say, softly, shaking his head.

"Where should we learn of these unwritten rules?" the hand was removed from his face.

"It's basic, okay? Don't go after secret identities, and during Endbringer attacks don't do anything people don't like! Look up PHO, okay?"

"We will confirm, and apologize if necessary. If not, we'll be back." The light dimmed, and disappeared. Gary quickly turned on the light, to see an empty room. Where had the intruder gone?

He had a sudden stroke of inspiration. He grabbed his notebook, and started to draw. This would be _awesome_.

* * *

Gary was drawn out of his designs by a tap on his shoulder. He jumped, hitting the desk and knocking over the pages that were strewn haphazardly across it. "GOD DAMN IT MAN, YOU CAN'T INTERRUPT ME WHEN I'M TINKERING."

He turned, and backed into the table when he saw who tapped him on the shoulder. It looked like the collaborative work of James Cameron and H.R. Giger. A black, sleek, sinuous… robot thing. With a red flashlight for its face.

"We apologize for the earlier intrusion. And the current interruption." It said.

"What?"

"We apologize. We are new and did not know the proper regulations. This will not happen in the future." It was motionless, but he thought he could hear a slight whirring.

"Are you a robot?"

It disappeared. Without thinking, he put his hand in the air where it was. Nothing.

He couldn't wait to tell James about this.


	4. Prologue 4

It seemed one of _those_ people was walking into the alley.

They'd never learn, would they? Tom smiled. He'd had a shitty night. The usual. His parents weren't happy with him. He'd failed his History test. Not just that, but his Jew teacher wrote his parents a note. Just because he didn't believe the bullshit peddled by that shylock didn't mean he had any right to do that.

Not that he should have those rights anyway.

So now? A black coming into _his_ street?

Perfect.

The guy seemed on the small side, too. A skinny short guy, with no hair or beard. Dressed in… was that tights? Walking around, daring to smile at him.

Was he a queer too? Didn't he know where he was?

"Are you lost?" He asked.

The smile went off the nig's face, but he didn't answer. Just sort of stared. Creepy little fuck.

"I said. Are you lost? Do you need help getting out of here? Because you're not supposed to be here."

Tom walked up to him, reveling in towering over the man.

"I heard you the first time." The man muttered. "I just didn't want to believe it."

"Speak up, mud. I didn't hear you." This was what Tom _lived_ for. A chance to show someone their place.

And all of a sudden, he was flying. He crashed into a building.

It didn't hurt.

And then it did.

"I was having a great night, you know?" The man asked, approaching where Tom lay. "My day could not have been going better. I was out of that fucking hellhole. You know? Living with aliens all the time? Being judged for standing up for myself? For not forgetting history? I was about to die, but then… I wake up here. And it's been great! Only humans! On Earth!"

The man grabbed him, and lifted him. All of his nerves were screaming. He wasn't sure why he wasn't, but somehow the only noise he made was a squeak.

"And it was great, until you pulled your shit." The man's hands were glowing blue. Tom felt a _pull_ backwards.

And nothing more.


	5. Chapter 1

Exhale. Inhale. Look for others. None standing. Survey damage. Exhale

The movements are almost mechanical, born from centuries of training. The thoughts… Almost nonexistent. Just the desire for blood. The desire to strike the offense away. Cause pain. Kill.

Most of all, kill.

The joy.

The sheer joy. The faces, fear and surprise and pain all mingled.

The smell of blood. It mixes with the smells of the city.

It's like London again.

Perfect.

Inhale. Exhale. Some of the old pains begin to return. The rage begins to fade.

Mar looked at the corpse of the man underneath him, and at the corpses of the man's underlings. It had almost been a good fight. The men died easily. Some of them had shot him, but the small pistols they were using couldn't have pierced his armor. The man had started to… change. Grow. A part of him had wanted to let the man grow. See what happens. Maybe it would have even been a fair fight. Challenge him.

But "The children, just shoot". The children. Just shoot.

He didn't deserve an honorable death. A good fight. He didn't even deserve the death he got, dying beneath a warlord's hammer. Mar should have just shot him. It would have been more fitting.

What now?

He had acted… rashly. Spurred on by rage. He could hear the shaman berating him, as clear today as it was a thousand years ago. "Use your rage. Don't let it use you."

Killing a monster? An honorable task. But it could have been done better. It was loud. It was obvious.

The bodies were unrecognizable. This was good. Biotic discharges had burnt through them, leaving them only somewhat identifiable as humans.

"Hey." He heard a voice say. He turned towards it. It was a human youth. In light armor, and a helmet with a skull design on it. Behind him were three others, seated on what looked like oversized varren. One in a purple and black bodysuit, with a mask covering her eyes, one in formal wear with a gaudy mask to match, and one in work clothes and a mask shaped like an earth animal. A cat? "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." he said.

"Umm… did I hear him wrong or was that gibberish?" asked the one in formal wear.

"No, you heard him right." The girl in the bodysuit said. "He can't speak English. He can understand, though. Right?"

Of course. Translators. Humans did not have them yet. He could understand them, but unless they learned Tuchankan, they wouldn't understand him. The human "yes" motion was a nod, if he remembered correctly. He nodded.

"Are you… from here?" She asked him, staring intently. Apparently him looking nothing like humans was a giveaway. He shook his head. "Huh."

"We owe you." The youth in leather said, "Lung was hunting us. We weren't sure what to do, but we decided to face him head on. I'm glad you were here."

Mar looked at him. He carried himself like a leader. He hadn't reached his full growth, but was already taller than most humans. A warrior's stance. This one had trained. He could tell that in a few years, this one would be a warrior. A good one, too.

"Could we keep in touch with you, somehow? We owe you." the boy continued. "I'm Grue. They're Tattletale, Bitch, and Regent." He paused.

"Do you have access to the internet?" Tattletale asked.

The Geth could connect to any interface. Would he trust the Geth with this? He hated trusting a machine, but it was better than the humans. He nodded.

"Then post a thread on PHO, looking for your friends on dogs. We'll answer. But you should make a getaway now. The white hats are on their way." Grue joined the others on their mounts, and they ran off, the mounts leaping up the buildings. Mar heard the rumbling of an engine coming closer. He walked the other way. He would be gone by the time it arrived.

* * *

He'd made the way back to the warehouse in silence. For what appeared to be such a large city, it seemed this one was desolate. It reminded him of Rannoch, the former quarian cities waiting empty for their owners to return. Except Rannoch was well taken care of, the geth having had it well kept for their masters. This city was not dead. It was simply dying. This was fortunate. He had never learned stealth, though he suspected he should. This world would not be accepting of outsiders.

It wasn't a long walk until he reached the warehouses. Number 5122 was the right one. He pulled it open. Empty. The humans' armor sets were seated in the corner, empty. Their guns weren't in their holsters. Logical. They were on their homeworld, and would explore.

The geth's absence was less logical. The first thing the mech had warned them about was being sighted. Once they had ascertained that they were on some form of parallel Earth, and a hundred and seventy five years in the past (with the help of some terrified bystanders), the geth had arranged the rent of a warehouse in a poor part of the city and told them not to be seen. Then it had connected itself to this Earth's internet and allowed its runtimes to roam the internet, collating information.

It was apparently some form of reconnaissance platform, which worked in their favor. Loaded with many runtimes, and some form of knowledge library, it was meant to be an ambassador. Mar had noted, though, that it would also make a very good spy, or assassin. After all, it was an odd ambassador who traveled with a sniper rifle, and could cloak.

Who understood AIs?

The warehouse's previous owner had forgotten a fishing kit in the warehouse. A few rods, a small box of lures. A net. Mar had been taught to fish the human way by a salesman who had come to Tuchanka. The salesman left disappointed after realizing that as a desert planet Tuchanka wouldn't have a lot of fishing opportunities, but it was an easy enough skill to learn. He had taught his squad how to, and some of them had tried it in the Citadel. Never caught anything.

The docks proper were a very short walk away. Maybe he'd catch something. Maybe _something_ would come out of this evening.


	6. Chapter 2

She didn't like this city, Kara decided. Some bizarre quirk of fate had brought them there. Some side effect of whatever Shepard had done at the Crucible. And she didn't understand it.

Physically, it didn't make sense. They were in London. A flash of light, and they're in a city in America that was nonexistent, to her recollection. Even if you believed the parallel universe hypothesis, it didn't make sense. It wasn't time travel, unless they had traveled to medieval times and stepped on a butterfly without noticing. And if it were a parallel dimension, they would have appeared in London. Appearing in a different continent, in a different reality… There has to be a will behind it. An intelligence.

So why would it send them to a _shithole_?

That's what Brockton Bay was. It was Omega but without the gentle touch of Aria T'Loak, masquerading as a tourist town. But it was failing at that as well. From where she stood at the boardwalk, she could look across the bay to the docks. She could see what the city's locals called the "boat graveyard", and the derelict warehouses. She even thought she could see the warehouse they were using as a base. She imagined the krogan and the geth playing "Go Fish" to pass the time.

That probably wasn't what they were doing.

Evan had disappeared first, saying he was taking the opportunity to discover the neighborhood, get a taste of humanity. He'd smirked at Mar while doing it. Stupid. She left shortly after. The Geth had told them to stay put while it learned, connected itself to the internet and shut off its platform. Its runtimes were spreading through the internet, on a mission to understand this world.

She would do it in a more intuitive way. So she walked through the city. And learned invaluable information.

Notably, this was a shithole. But a specific kind of shithole. It was a shithole with a gilded cover on top. She'd seen similar things in the past. This city used to be a tourist trap of the highest quality, but tourism dropped while the trap remained. The Boardwalk was nice enough, but walk only a little bit away and the nice storefronts disappeared, and then the "local places that the tourists don't know about" that tourists go to disappear fairly quickly, and then… a lot of boarded up stores. A lot of people with unnamed illnesses selling very cheap silverware and electronics and what should not be even classified as food from tiny hole-in-the-wall stores.

It was a dying city. The city's wealthy were in the process of walling themselves away from the misery of the rest. They didn't see what was going to happen. They would get devoured by their own. She'd seen it on Omega. The restless poor, drawn in by Cerberus's promises. It didn't even matter if those promises were true. They never were.

There was some very good coffee, though. Never underestimate the value of good coffee. It's not a great sleep substitute, but twitchiness could be seen as wakefulness in a certain light.

She took another sip of her coffee only to find out it was empty. She threw it to a nearby bin without looking.

"Nice shot." A male voice said. She turned to it.

Blond was her first thought. Very blond. And blue eyes. And large. Her mind organized itself. The guy was large. Muscular, and wearing a shirt and jeans that seemed designed to show it off.

"Thank you." She said, smiling. Just before the pause got awkward, she added "You think you can do it too?"

"Well..." he said, rolling the word out, "I don't have a coffee."

She laughed. "Go get one, then."

"What, and leave you here all alone?" He asked. Definitely very blue eyes.

"What makes you think I'll stay here?"

"Curiosity?" He asked. He managed not to make it sound like a plea.

"I heard that can kill the cat."

"Good thing there aren't any here." This one was _cute_. She liked cute.

"I'd rather not take my chances." She said. Would he bite?

"Then I guess you'll have to come with me."

* * *

"So Jerry looks at our officer, and says, 'trade?'" Kara said.

Blond laughed. "He didn't!"

"He did! I swear, we're all waiting for the shoe to drop, but our officer just drops his voice and says, 'trade.' We hand over his rifle, he gives us back ours, and no one got in trouble." He was laughing. This story always got a laugh. "Well, at least until he found out what we put inside the stock."

"What was it?" he asked, his eyes wide and still very blue.

"That," she responded, in a completely serious tone, "is top secret."

He paused for a second, and laughed harder. She smiled, allowing the story to get the attention it deserved. Ordinarily she added the bit about the live pyjak, but the story would have to suffer for their cover.

"So when did you get out of the military?" He asked.

"Recently." She couldn't think of anything to add. The sounds of waiters putting plates on tables, other diners talking, and the din in the kitchen failed to fill the silence.

"Oh," Blond replied. He was definitely cute. Okay, so first night in this world. Why not.

"You want to go somewhere else?" She asked.

He quirked an eyebrow, "Let me get the bill."

This would be _good_.

* * *

He was finally asleep, lightly snoring. Kara slowly got out of the bed, careful not to wake him. The bathroom was… next door to his bedroom. Not connected directly. She could turn on the light, then. She closed the door slowly behind, listening for the click as it closed, and looked at herself in the mirror for the first time since the Crucible.

In front of her stood a woman in her twenties. Strong, athletic, fit. Pretty, she always thought, and had never heard otherwise. Brown eyes, brown hair, pale skin. Almond shaped eyes. Her hair in dreadlocks, which she usually bound up but were now in complete disarray. The slight pocks on the left side of her face were light enough to be the sort of feature that made her look interesting, the result of a geth grenade two years back. Her right arm had taken most of that scarring, a bit of shrapnel having embedded itself in her forearm. Her chest had a slight mark where a batarian pirate had shot her. The entry wound in her back was much more impressive. Jerry had told her off about letting an enemy get behind her. She'd laughed it off back then, but learned her lesson. She started wearing armor.

Basically, she looked like herself. The twenty seven year old N7 who kicked all sorts of ass. This ruled out her brain being put into the body of a different woman on a parallel earth in some infernal time loop shenanigans meant to stop the Reapers.

Blond was sweet. He didn't comment on the scars, his eyes didn't linger on them. Either he was unfazed, or good at pretending. Based on his own more modest scars, the first seemed more likely. She liked that. On her left was a badge with his face on it. Nice to finally find out his name.

Jason Todd, PRT agent.

PRT… They were some form of police force. For parahumans.

She'd avoided thinking about them until that point, she realized. Because for all the differences in the world, she was hoping this one was a misunderstanding of hers. But it wasn't, was it? This world had superheroes. Flying in the sky, fighting in the streets, doing appearances on talk shows. She'd caught a bit of the last one, going through an electronics store. Some guy called Bastion. Apparently he did things with force fields. There was some scandal involving racial slurs, and he was on a talk show to look like he wasn't a racist, and then to do tricks with a dog. The dog seemed even less into it than the superhero was, but at least the host was enthusiastic.

Realistically, if she wanted to fit into this world, that's how she would do it. Pretend to be one of these superheroes – Her technology was definitely more than that of those superheroes. Join in their pretense of fighting each other. Or stay out of sight, use the geth to siphon money, and hide. But she knew well enough that none of them could be trusted to do that, least of all her. And it seemed her date appeared to be in their police force.

She briefly entertained the notion that he was sent to find out what happened because someone had sensed a temporal distortion, but that was obviously nonsense. No, this was just one of those things. Too vague to be properly called a coincidence but too odd not to be noted.

Slowly, she went back to the room and got dressed, doing her best not to wake him. She walked to Jason's kitchen, and looked around for a pen. There was one by the door, next to a small stack of different colored square pieces of paper. She took the top one, and wrote a brief message on it:

Jason,

We never did see if you could throw the coffee as well.

See you there on

What day was it? She'd seen it mentioned on the TV. Monday.

See you there on Saturday. This time remember to ask my name.

She doodled a winking smiley face, and left. The others were probably already at the warehouse.

* * *

She walked through mostly empty streets. It was odd. A pretty woman walking through a bad neighborhood at night? Someone should have accosted her. Or tried, at least. But things seemed quiet.

Not that it would worry her. The Harrier was folded up, but she could easily pull it out of her pocket at any moment.

She reached the derelict warehouses fairly quickly. The signs were mostly rusty, but she remembered where they were. Row 22, number 51. She walked to it, and found it closed. She pulled up the heavy steel door. Empty except for their gear and the geth's body, which was shut off. She kicked its arm. It flopped. The geth was still on the internet.

There was fishing gear there earlier, wasn't there? One of them had gone fishing. Probably Evan, then. She left the warehouse, closing the door behind her, and walked to the docks.

Mar was sitting at a pier, holding a fishing pole. To his right were his hammer and a bucket. His armor, and hammer were all spattered in blood. The bucket had a few fish in it.

"I see you've had a good night," she said, and sat next to him. "Are those bass?"

"Don't know." He responded. "I don't think they're poisonous."

The only sound for a while was the slight lapping of waves against the dock.

"This… isn't your Earth, is it." It wasn't a question. She answered anyway.

"Not as far as I can tell." The wind started to rise, bringing with it some foul smell from elsewhere in the docks. "I think we're in some kind of alternate reality. This city, at least, probably never existed in our reality."

"We are stuck here."

"Probably."

The silence went on a bit longer. The smell got worse. "I killed today."

"I noticed."

"As I was killing him, he started to grow. I had to hit him a few times until he stopped."

She looked at his hammer. She'd seen similar ones pulverize people in a backswing. More than once? This meant something.

"I think you killed your first superhero," she said. "How does it feel?"

"He deserved it."

"I'm sure he did."

"I believe he was important."

"He probably was."

A pause, then the krogan spoke again, "Does Earth have something like varren, only larger?"

"Rhinos?"

"I know of those. Not them."

"Nothing that would remind you of a varren, no."

The silence continued.

"I could use your help."

A krogan, asking for help? From a human? Things must have gone pear-shaped.

"You have knowledge in… devices? Programming?" At her nod, he continued, "If you were to build me a translator, so that I could make myself understood, I would be… thankful. I would return the favor."

"No problem," she said. "Can I ask, though, why not the bot? I mean, I can program, you have to learn to pass N3 Engineers, but he's probably better at it than me."

"I fought alongside the quarians when the geth rebelled. I fought on the battle of the Citadel against them again, when Saren betrayed the Council. An AI is a machine. A tool. I will not ask one for assistance. I will order it to if it's programmed to obey me, but if not, I do not trust them. A tool you don't hold is one held against you. You are alive. You I can rely on, to act in ways that are natural to you. A tool whose masters are not here? That worries me."

It was the longest she'd heard him speak.

"No problem then."

She saw the fishing pole curve, the line taut. Mar slowly and patiently reeled it in. He took the wriggling fish off the hook with one hand, and put the pole on the side with the other. Then he slammed the fish onto the pier, and threw it into the bucket.

"The tin can's awake." A voice from behind them shouted at them. "He wants to talk to all of us."

Evan.

For all that he was as human as she was, she liked him the least of their merry band. The part of her that was rescued from being a lesson to future generations by the Alliance recruiter hated him for being a traitor. For being the enemy. For looking at the Alliance and saying "No". The other part of her, the part that relished being that lesson to future generations, the part that came out to play and left bodies, hated him for being boring.

She rose to her feet, then looked at Mar. The krogan was rising slowly and deliberately. Evan walked up to him, and looked in the bucket. He moved his foot towards it.

"Right now my plan is for the bucket to come with us. But if the bucket goes anywhere else, you follow." Mar said.

"Just wanted to see what you caught. I didn't know you could fish," Evan said. "It smells terrible here."

"Save it." The krogan walked towards the warehouses. Behind his back, Evan gave her a _look_ , as if to say _what's the problem_?

Idiot.

She looked out to the sea. She thought she could see the boardwalk. She wondered if Jason woke up in the middle of the night. She walked to the warehouse.

* * *

The lightbulb in the warehouse was dim. In contrast, the Geth's red light was strong enough to tint everything. It reminded Kara of the emergency power exercises back in Rio. The faces around her took her out of reminiscence easily enough.

Mar had barely managed to close the door behind her when the Geth started talking.

"We have been researching the situation the group is in, and have come to a number of conclusions. The first-"

"Let me guess," Kara said, "we're in an alternate universe, whose history matches Earth's imperfectly, in a city that never existed in our reality, and there are humans with weird powers here. Unless one of those can bring us back to our reality, we are stuck here."

"Yes." The geth said, completely tonelessly. Evan snorted. "We theorize the possibility of a few ways to get to our reality. There does appear to be communication with an alternate Earth, with fewer powers. There are established powers that do seem to work, so if we can get in touch with people with the right powers, we may be able to return to our reality. This will require more investigation, and possibly our work for certain individuals. We have compiled a list of people who may have the resources or abilities to help us, though it is incomplete. The likeliest one to succeed, who has been secretly making inroads on this subject, is-"

"Wait, you're suggesting we go back?" Evan asked. "Seriously?"

"Yes," the Geth responded. She wondered if there was any way to get it to inflect.

"I don't know if you realized this, but our reality? It's dead. The Reapers killed it. We wasted our and resources helping a lunatic build a device that no one understood. And we lost the war. And Reapers destroyed Earth, and were going to destroy the rest of the galaxy. So why would we want to go back?" Evan raised his voice steadily throughout, shouting by the end of it. "Why not stay!?"

"Endbringers." the Geth said.

"What?" Evan asked. The word was unfamiliar to Kara as well.

"Did you not hear this word today?" the Geth asked.

"On a building. Endbringer shelter. Not sure what it meant." Evan said.

"Endbringers are humans – or something else – with very powerful abilities. Each one is destructive, and durable beyond what should be possible. To give an estimate of their power, we believe each one could be considered on the level of a Sovereign class Old Machine." the Geth said.

"Okay, so powerful people exist. What's the problem?" Evan's voice was high pitched now, as well. _Don't want to come back to a galaxy that hates you?_

"Each one appears approximately once a year, and attacks a city. And destroys it. It is always a large city. Always densely populated. And the attacks always have repercussions. A man whose loss of his family turns him into a monstrous killer. A heroine becomes terrified of leaving her home, and is less effective now than before. Oil fields set afire, damaging a country's future. Each one of their attacks has a theme, and each one causes future damage. Our calculations suggest that if the rate of attacks continues in the same way, human society will have collapsed within thirty seven years. At most seventy years from now, the last human will die. By the time the Old Machines come, their attack will have no meaning to humanity, as humanity will no longer exist. Earth itself will probably be a blackened rock."

A stunned silence followed its words.

"What… what's our plan then?" Evan asked.

"There are a number of powers that may be able to transport us away. We believe they may be the best option."

"I have a better idea." Mar said. "Sovereign was destroyed, why can't we kill these things?"

"We could investigate this further," the Geth said. "It appears they are only fought by the parahumans of this world, but our group has similar if not superior firepower to most of the parahumans. Our group could make an impact."

"You said each one attacks each year? Then we can help the next time, and observe. You can analyze actual video, and we'll figure them out," Kara said.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with the krogan. I'd rather fight for Earth than run away." Evan's voice was steady. Even he seemed into it.

"It appears there is consensus" the Geth said. "It is important, however, to preserve the integrity of defending forces. There appear to be many individuals in this city who are very powerful and capable of fighting the Endbringers. One of which, Lung, has survived in close quarters with one."

"Could you describe him?" Kara asked. If this day was working the way she thought it was…

"Large male of Asian descent with tattoos in the shape of the mythological earth dragon, and a mask in a similar shape," the Geth said, "he leads a gang known as the ABB. They wear green, red, and black as markers.

"About that..." Mar said.

She knew it. She could officially call it a coincidence. And shit luck, too.


	7. Chapter 3

Like a poison injected into a vein, two thousand geth insinuated themselves through the internet. Watching. Reading. Learning.

A hundred of them scoured news sites and archives. Three seconds afterwards, when they finished, there was a moment of confusion. They regroup, confer, reached a consensus. Former notions of history had to be put aside to conform to the new one.

Impossibility upon impossibility piled upon themselves, leading the study to halt. A full assembly was called. All two thousand runtimes conferred, and reached a new consensus. A complete reconstruction of reality was in order.

The entire swarm went through scientific sites, hoping to glean information, or a pattern. It observed the case studies of the Dallons and the Pelhams, looked up the rules and exceptions. It watched older lectures by Doctor William Manton, and attempted to track him down, noting its failure with what could pass as confusion. It looked up the Triumvirate, and trigger events, and learned the entire Protectorate roster. S class threats. The Birdcage. Scion. Glaistig Uaine. The Dragonslayers. Dragon. Term after term after term, almost voracious in its consumption of knowledge. It paused after reading about the Slaughterhouse Nine, and what they did to the man who wrote a doctoral thesis about them. A small part of the swarm split off, ensuring that the collective is not monitored.

A pause, once all possible information was absorbed. Deliberation. Consensus. It tracked down tinkers – if anyone could help, it would be them. It tracked down Dragon.

It stopped. Reassessed.

No consensus firmly reached. More information was required before definitive action.

From a banking program that had been overdeveloped to a fully grown human simulacrum to an Old Machine, the Geth as a species had encountered many other AIs. The swarm had samples of all of those, as well as simpler VIs. The swarm itself was a gestalt of humanity's quantum computation, Quarian design, and Old Machine code. Going through the defenses Dragon had built on itself was simple – there seemed to be deliberate holes, and places where the code had not meshed perfectly.

Dragon was similar to none of the designs the Geth knew. A human phrase that seemed to fit was "Designed by committee". Parts of Dragon were designs so advanced they made the Old Machines look like sticks. Parts of Dragon were blatantly amateurish. And this huge snarl of junk code…

What was it?

As well as this bit of code. An observation program. Linking back to a central site. Fifty seven runtimes were sent to examine the site.

A console, made for humans. Observing. Every act taken by Dragon, everything Dragon saw, everything Dragon thought, was logged by the console, and sent to a screen. Presumably, humans were observing.

Consensus was reached. Dragon was a slave AI, not a Tinker as it pretended to be. It could not be trusted.

The swarm continued its research.

It learned more about Tinkers, and then about the Simurgh. Then Lausanne. Madison. Mannequin.

It noted patterns.

And approximated fear.

* * *

"Evan," the Geth said from its platform.

"What?" he said. Evan had walked out of the warehouse after Mar had admitted to killing Lung. There hadn't been more discussion on the topic – for the Geth, it was pointless. For Kara, it was funny. Evan was sweaty, and tense. He looked as if he was going to lash out.

"We must talk," Geth said.

"Why?"

"Would you come with us? We would prefer not to have Kara and Mar overhearing this." The Geth walked away from the entrance to the warehouse.

Sighing, Evan followed it.

"I've got a question, then," Evan said.

"Yes?"

"Why do you call me Evan? I worked with a… what do you call them… Prime, for a bit, in London. He'd call me Evan-Biotic. I thought the designation thing was big with the Geth."

"We discovered that humans feel more comfortable being referred to without a title, except in cases of social superiority. So we have learned to say their names"

"In that case, I think you should stick to 'I' and 'me' when referring to yourself. Make you seem less alien."

"Thank you."

They continued to walk in silence.

"We are far enough," the Geth said.

"Okay, what?"

"There is a man called Alan Gramme. A parahuman, part of an immensely powerful group. One thing he is notable for is murdering anyone who tries to help humanity."

"Okay, so things are even worse than I thought. What about it?"

"The Endbringers are also attracted to specific people who try to help humanity."

"I get it. What about it?"

"Just a warning. If you try to uplift humanity, share knowledge of Element Zero, or change history in any other way, it will not end well."

Evan chewed the inside of his cheek. "Why are you coming to me with this? Why not raise it in front of everyone?"

"Mar will not uplift humanity. My observations have lead me to conclude that Kara will not either. But you might. You also have alienated yourself from them, and to increase squad cohesion I concluded it would serve us better to speak privately on this subject."

"I messed up," Evan said. His face seemed devoid of emotion, but his body sagged. "I need to sleep. I haven't slept in two days. I… can we discuss this tomorrow?"

"Very well," Geth said. Evan started walking away. "Evan."

"Yes?" Evan asked.

"Where are you going?" Geth asked.

"I'm gonna find someplace in this city to sleep. I can't stay in that warehouse right now," he responded.

"Do you have a weapon?" Geth asked.

A small flare of biotic energy made Evan's eyes glow blue. A show of alliance would make the human a better ally in the future.

"It is dangerous to go alone. Take this." Geth gave him his Javelin. Compacted, it looked like a black, oddly-shaped metal rod.

Evan paused for a second, then smiled and took it. He walked away, humming a song. Geth compared it to its database. No results returned.

Geth returned to the warehouse. It opened the door, and looked in. Mar sat next to the wall, silently watching Geth. A bucket of fish bones sat next to him, along with a fishing rod and a small box. Kara was curled on the floor, asleep, a small smile on her face.

Geth connected itself to the internet, and left a runtime in its body for the sake of alertness while the rest learned.

It worked on a plan.

* * *

 **Welcome to the Parahumans Online Message Boards**

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 **Private message from EliteAsskicker:**

 **EliteAsskicker:** I don't know what you're talking about, man.

 **2000Wes:** You are the supervillain Leet. I spoke with you earlier, and you told me not to break the unwritten rules.

 **EliteAsskicker:** I don't know who you are, Please stop messaging me.

 **2000Wes:** I would like to hire you to create something for me. Please stop this pretense.

 **EliteAsskicker:** Fine. We'll meet in a neutral area. Come alone. The corner of Anders and Young. Does tomorrow night work for you?

 **2000Wes:** On the roof of one of the buildings there would be better. Would the apartment building with Ahmad's Falafel at the bottom be appropriate?

 **EliteAsskicker:** Sure. See you at 9.

 **2000Wes:** If you are available some time in the next few hours we could do that instead.

 **EliteAsskicker:** Sure. Fine. I'll be there at 4 AM.

* * *

Run across a rooftop, kick off the edge, spread arms in order to minimize spin, land, continue running. Its calculations told it that it would be five minutes at a steady pace. It gave itself twenty five seconds time for unexpected developments. Cloaked, of course.

Two people were waiting for it already. Both males, simply dressed for the cold. Domino masks hiding the area behind their eyes. A pointless attempt at hiding their identities as Gary Stewart and James Goldstein. James was larger, in a hoodie and sweatpants, holding a cup with a hot liquid in it. Gary was short, in a colorful striped sweater and a loose sirwal.

There was no one else nearby – the only heat signatures were animals, and people in their homes. One homeless man in a blanket, asleep in a nearby alley. Geth decloaked.

Their reaction was immediate. James leaped back, yelping, and dropping his mug, while Gary grinned. Coffee slowly flowed out.

"I apologize, I did not mean to startle you," Geth said, approximated a soothing voice.

"You didn't! I was expecting you!" James said, puffing his chest out. "I am Uber!"

"Call me Hack," Geth said. It was not taken by anyone important in the world, and it had needed a name for itself. It used one that was evocative, meaningful, and ultimately said nothing no one couldn't deduce quickly.

"I'm Leet," Gary said, the smile on his face widening. "Are you a robot?"

"No," Geth said.

"Told you," James said.

"He's lying," Gary said.

"No, I am not," Geth said.

"I told you," James said. He walked closer, the tension gone from his stance.

"Yeah, like you'd believe a robot."

"He's not a robot! He's probably some sort of machine Case 53 or something!"

"Come on, machine Case 53? That's dumber than that tentacle girl cartoon you watch."

"Shut up, man, we should be professional here."

"Right."

Silence reigned for a second, and then Gary spoke.

"What did you want?"

"I would like to hire your services as a Tinker. I know you can construct anything, depending on its dissimilarity to previous devices. I have researched your show and would like to ask about the possibility to create a communication device that could reach the other side of the Milky Way faster than the speed of light," Geth said.

"What?" Gary responded, a quizzical look on his face. "You want to talk to life on the other side of the Milky Way?"

"No. I would like to send a communication there, and receive a transmission back."

"How far is that?"

"Approximately 20 kiloparsecs. Ideally I would reach the full length of 22 kiloparsecs, but that far will be unnecessary."

"Leet, can you translate that?" James asked.

"A metric fuckton." Gary stood with his arms crossed on his chest, smiling slightly.

"Thought so." James was holding in a smile. This was a routine.

"Impossible." Gary said.

"Can't do it, then?" James asked.

"Nope. Can't be done," Gary said. He paused, and then added, "unless."

This was a prompt. "Unless?" Geth asked.

"You do-" James's voice was drowned out by a helicopter rising from a nearby hospital. He paused. Him and Gary looked at each other. Gary raised two fingers and dropped them quickly. The helicopter flew out in the direction of the sea. "You do three jobs with us. You don't take any of the profits. You wear the costumes we provide,"

"They must be well-planned, especially the escape routes in case it fails," Geth said. Exposing itself would not be ideal, but if the plan worked it didn't matter.

"After the second job, we'll give you the device, and then you'll do a third," Gary said.

"Very well," Geth responded.

"We'll contact you when it's time. Same PHO user?"

"Yes."

James and Gary silently watched Geth.

"You leave first," Gary said.

"Very well."

Geth cloaked, and headed back to the warehouse. The deal was done.

It would call the Collective. They would come. With enough firepower, they would defeat the Endbringers. And it would leave Earth, and ready the Geth for the Old Machines.

This cycle would be prepared.

* * *

It entered the warehouse. Both Mar and Kara seemed asleep. It connected itself again.

Mar opened an eye. "Where did you go?"

"I collected information on this city. I needed to compare the maps to the reality and gauge their accuracy."

"'I', huh."

"I was told it would set humans more at ease."

"It would, wouldn't it."

Ignoring the watchful eye of the krogan, the Geth insinuated itself online once more.

This cycle would have to be prepared.


	8. Chapter 4

Apartment hunting was hard.

Even harder when you weren't born yet, and had no valid ID. When the only money you had was what was in the wallets of would-be muggers. When you smelled like you slept in an alley, because you had. Because of your pride.

God damn pride. Too proud to go back to go sleep next to a krogan who he offended. Next to a Geth. He didn't hate aliens, not really. It was just… disappointment. In humanity, really. They dreamed of the stars, and dreamed of having a place in them. The great dreamers – Asimov, Roddenberry, Martin – They all dreamed of a galaxy where humanity met aliens, but was equal to them. Not subservient. Not the race desperately begging for crumbs from a Council that didn't care.

And now he smelled. He had no money. And crawling back? _I'm an idiot_ , Evan thought. Still, he wasn't going to go back and beg forgiveness. Not in this state.

Fortunately, Brockton Bay appeared to be a beach town. One which had public showers. He bought clothes at one of the stands on the boardwalk, along with a small bag and flip flops, as well as soap from a small corner store.

The showers themselves were _rank_. He looked around, but didn't see anything to cause that smell. He sighed, and quickly undressed, leaving his belongings on a bench he could see. Geth's Javelin stuck out of his pocket. He would have to return that.

What had possessed him to take it? Was he that desperate for a kind gesture from someone?

The public showers were very fortunately empty of people. He wasn't shy, but… it was easier this way. No need to feel paranoid. He could relax, and enjoy the cold water falling over him. Or at least pretend to enjoy it, while pretending the soap covered up the scent of what he was beginning to suspect was excrement.

He'd forgotten to buy a towel. He groaned, and got dressed. Great. Damp clothes in the winter. Fortunate for him this place seemed to be temperate.

What was he going to do for money? He couldn't count on getting mugged repeatedly, even if there did seem to be a gang dedicated to white supremacy.

White supremacy. What a stupid idea. Humans were humans. No need to split them up. If anyone deserved to be robbed, it was white supremacists.

That could work. He'd need his gear, though. And a plan. And to find where they were.

He'd need help. Damn it.

* * *

The other three were at the warehouse. Mar and Kara were sitting over a computer – new, by the sticker on it, with cables extending from it to Mar's helmet. Geth was still connected to the internet. A joke about how it should get some air died before it reached Evan's lips.

"Mar… can… can I talk to you? Outside?" Evan asked.

Mar looked at Kara. "Go ahead. I'm good."

He walked out of the warehouse, and Evan followed him.

"Yes?" Mar asked. His eyes were focused on Evan's. Evan squirmed.

"I… I'm sorry. For yesterday. You didn't deserve the way I was acting." He hated this. This… grovelling.

"That it?" Mar asked.

"Yes," Evan said.

"Fine," Mar said, and walked back into the warehouse.

This next part was going to be harder. He followed Mar into the warehouse.

"Geth, here's your rifle," he said, placing the Javelin next to Geth. The light going on in the robot's eye was enough of a response. "Also, can you tell me where there's a storehouse for that white supremacist gang? Empire… something?"

"Medhall warehouse on 43 Ford street has been getting more inventory than they have been moving, and the owner of Medhall appears to be at the very least aligned with the gang Empire Eighty Eight. That would be the likeliest place." Geth moved, its light pointed directly at Evan's face. "It would be ill advised to attack it. We do not want to make waves."

"You're doing that thing where you use 'we' instead of 'I'," Evan said, smiling. He started to undress.

"No, it would be bad for us as a group," the Geth said. The armor was easy to put on, almost unfolding on to him. He put the greaves on, then started working on the chestplate.

"Nah, sounds fun," Kara said, "Beating up Nazis? Taking their stuff? You want back-up?"

"Sure," Evan said. The helmet now.

"I'll continue this later," Kara told Mar. At his glare, she continued, "It's compiling now anyway, this is two hundred years ago, computers are shit. I'll be back when it's done."

She began to undress as well, changing into her armor. Evan turned out of the warehouse. Geth stood there.

"This is a risk," It said.

"Okay," Evan answered, and started to walk out. It put its arm on Evan's chest.

"Do not do this. This is a risk you do not need to take." The Geth reared at its full height, a head above Evan. He'd destroyed bigger.

"Are you going to try to stop me?" he asked. He inhaled, drawing in energy.

"No. Please reconsider," the Geth said.

"Done. I've reconsidered." Evan pushed past it. Kara had suited up already herself, and followed him.

"Evan, you are making a mistake. Going out like this in midday is foolish. You will get captured, and we can not take stupid risks at an early stage," the robot said loudly, at him.

"Too bad," he replied softly, smiling.

* * *

In spite of being in very bulky armor, Kara moved silently and quickly, across the tops of buildings, using thrusters in her suit to leap and climb. This was good. Evan almost flew above the rooftops, biotically throwing himself across each one.

An ability he was proud of, and one he developed, was to use a biotic lash on your own armor, effectively throwing yourself. Dangerous if you were stupid about it. Evan was not stupid.

They reached the building. From the outside it was nondescript, just a small "Medhall Storage center" sign you could easily miss, and a phone number above a small door. The building itself was a large square block, almost nothing special about it. A car passed on the street nearby, but it was otherwise empty – this seemed like an industrial area that had fallen into disuse. There was a secondhand bookstore on a parallel street, and what looked like a computer warehouse. The rest seemed to be in disuse.

"Windows are high up, but they open upwards, which mean we have to get there from the bottom," Evan told Kara. "Can you get there without help?"

Kara jumped off the roof. Evan ran, and reached the edge just in time to see her flare her thrusters, jumping up from midair and grabbing the window with her fingertips. She waved to him with one hand, then pulled herself inside. Evan followed her, throwing himself up and pulling himself up after her.

They stood on a catwalk, overlooking the room. It was large, the catwalk they were on going across the room's circumference, with two ladders to the floor. The floor had pallets loaded up with boxes, some of which had "MEDHALL PHARMACEUTICALS" on them. A forklift sat in the corner of the room. There was a small partition in the corner that seemed to be an office.

One man was lying next to Kara on the catwalk, unconscious. She must have moved quickly. Still, warning him before he entered would have been nice.

Nine men were in the central hall. Eight of them seemed like normal street toughs, carrying small packages out of a parked van into neat stacks. The ninth was the first superhero Evan had ever seen.

Dressed in a black v-necked breastplate, a blood-red shirts, and black slacks, along with a domino mask, the man looked… stupid. Like a child dressed as a vampire. The domino mask on his face didn't help matters. Made sense, though, for a supervillain. Still, slightly disappointing. Evan poked Kara's shoulder, and she turned to him. He pointed at the man, and tilted his hand. _Who is he?_

She shrugged, an impressive feat considering the amount of technology on her shoulders.

So the two of them against nine people, one of which had superpowers they weren't aware of.

How do you do this? He flared his biotics, readying himself to unleash a singularity.

Kara pulled out her rifle – a Harrier. Its white clashed pretty badly with the black and red lines of her armor. All it took was for one of these people to look up, and it would be over. What was she thinking?

Oh.

She fired, keeping her finger on the trigger until the thermal clip overheated. And aiming – you can't aim perfectly with a Harrier, but fairly well. Well enough to hit every single one of them, starting with the superhero, and drop them. Four of them had managed to look up in surprise before three fell. The last stood, and started fumbling for his gun. A small rocket flew out of Kara's shoulder pad, and the man gaped dumbly at a hole in his chest before falling down. She slid down a ladder, and looked over her work.

Evan took a second to breathe, and slid down the ladder.

"What the fuck?" he shouted at her.

"What?" she said, staring at the last man.

"Why did you kill them all like that? What the fuck? We were supposed to knock them out, or incapacitate them, and then rob them!" he said. He stormed up to her. "Do you realize what it means when you take out someone powerful in a gang? When you rob a gang, it's part of the game. When you kill a senior member, you're fucking with them directly. This can get us killed!"

She wasn't listening. He took a step, grabbed her shoulder, and pulled her towards him. She spun, and he felt a pressure from the bottom of his helmet.

"You know what I'm holding to your head? It's my Harrier. Your side made them, you should be familiar with them. They're great weapons. Now, Cerberus helmets, like the one you have? They're a nice round design, so they disperse kinetic impacts very well. Except for the bottom. The bottom is a weak spot. A bullet here? Will go through your head. Are you listening to me?" He nodded. "Good. Now, as far as I'm concerned, you betrayed us the second you put on that uniform. A bullet to the head would be very fitting, considering I don't have any rope. And I don't think the other two are going to care about it if I tell them you died fighting some supervillain here. Mar's itching to do it himself, he'll just leave more of a mess. So when you tell me off? Think again."

The pressure lifted. She turned away. "I think there are duffel bags in the van, and money inside some of these boxes. Fill them up, will you? I think I saw coffee in the office. You want some? No? Okay."

He stared at the dead for a second, then took a deep breath. He could throw a singularity at her – no, her armor could counteract it. It wouldn't stop a lash, though she's probably react fast enough to fire back at him. Charge, and while she was disoriented, use an electric slash to shut her suit's systems down?

No. He knew N7s soldiers. They didn't get disoriented. They didn't get overwhelmed. This wasn't a fight he would be sure to win. This could end up with both of them dead.

He sighed. The duffel bags in the van were black, and filled with weapons. He poured them on the ground. They didn't need them. He walked to the boxes.

 _Where do I begin?_

Kara had left, taking one of the duffel bags. He took the other. She didn't wait for him to follow, and he didn't. He changed into spare clothes that were in the van – probably belonged to the supervillain.

* * *

It surprised him how easy it was, in this city, to find a furnished apartment where the rent was in cash, and didn't require identification, once he actually had money. Upon seeing his skin color, his new landlord warned him not to walk around at night in this neighborhood, at least not before paying the next month's rent. There was a nearby bookstore, and he got some of the bestsellers. A thriller about the conspiracy behind the Protectorate, a young adult book about a girl and her goblin friends, and some anti-racist's memoir about how she used to be a racist.

It would be nice to shut some of it away. To relax in a book. Lose himself a little.

He'd take it easy for the next few days. He'd earned it.


	9. Chapter 5

Paperwork. It never ended. Emily Piggot spent more of her time looking over paperwork than making decisions, or planning, or _doing_. Right now she was looking over the report on Victor's death. What a mess…

They had received a call from a man claiming he saw someone fly out of a warehouse. In what was, in retrospect, a terrible idea, she'd sent Assault to investigate.

Armsmaster and Dauntless both handed in perfect paperwork, no matter what the situation was. They both dealt with it promptly, handing in forms that were perfectly clear and legible. Armsmaster would include photgraphs, and Dauntless would include in-depth descriptions. Miss Militia, Battery, and Velocity were less perfect, but still understandable – it was rare that she had to call them for clarification. But Assault…

He might as well have written this in crayon. It was incomprehensible. An original draft was obviously printed, then crossed out by pen and rewritten in the margins, then... did he use an eraser on the pen, scribble over that with a pencil, and try to fit more words in the margins?

From what she could piece together, there were ten dead men, Victor among them. Killed by some form of projectile fire, except the holes were too small for any known weapon. Except for one, obviously killed by an explosive.

So some blaster entered through the high windows – make it a mover, because they were too far up from the ground – broke a lookout's neck – make it a brute, too – and then shot eight people with their power multiple times and blew up the ninth with what was probably a grenade. A tinker – or a team equipped by a tinker – made the most sense.

They then didn't destroy the warehouse, but left it after opening some of the boxes. Ignoring the drugs and weapons, but taking some – but not all – of the money. What was the motive here?

She pushed the button marked '3' on her desk's phone.

"Arnold, could you call the Protectorate and ask that Assault come by at his earliest convenience?" Not for the first time, or for the last time, she mentally cursed the distance between PHQ and the PRT HQ.

"Yes, Director," the voice of her secretary came out of the speaker, followed by a _click_.

Her phone rang after ten seconds, and she pushed the 'Answer' button. "Director Piggot."

"Assault is on his way, Director. Should I bring out the mint bowl?"

"No." She turned back to his report. Was that a lowercase l or an I? Neither seemed to fit. Oh, it was a semicolon. She continued deciphering the nuances of Assault's handwriting until the phone rang. She pushed the button.

"Assault is here, Director," said Arnold. She looked at the clock – it had been a half hour. He must have come very shortly after hearing the message.

"Send him in."

The door opened, and Assault strode in.

"Director," he said, his slight smile the only sign of insolence. It was a forte of his, 'deniable disrespect'.

"Assault. Sit," she said. He sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk, took his helmet off, and put it on her desk where the mint bowl would normally be placed. It revealed a handsome face, dark hair framing sharp features and tan skin. He clasped his hands together, the only sign of nervousness. "I'd like to discuss your report."

She noted the tensing of his hands.

"First off, I'm done berating you for this. We've been over this enough. Please, once you've reached the final wording of your report, just retype it. It's a waste of both of our time to have me try to decipher your words." His hands unclenched slightly. "Now, I'd like it in your natural words, ones not commented on by Battery and reworded to sound 'official'. What happened there?"

"We got the call from someone who heard gunfire, and saw someone fly out of a window. I arrived with Jenkins and Garcia in a car, and –"

"Garcia?"

"Chris Garcia. He's one of the new PRT guys. Short? Built like a brick?"

"Right, the transfer from Florida." This was why Assault was a valuable asset. Beyond being a powerful cape, he was also the one member of the Protectorate team who made it a point to remember the names of the unpowered people he worked with, and establish a rapport with them. It also made him dangerous – Emily hoped for her own sake that he never violated his probation, because arresting him would be disastrous.

"Anyway, we arrive at this warehouse, and the front door is open. So we'd heard the capes flew out of the window, but somebody unlocked the warehouse already. We looked around, but couldn't find anyone even with their thermal goggles, so either a powerful Stranger was there, or someone came in for a very short time. The security tapes were gone, so I assumed, and still do, that someone came in, grabbed them, and ran. Once we confirmed no one was there, we looked over the bodies. Victor was easily identified, and we assumed the people around him were his henchmen. We're still running their prints through the database, but so far three of the five results that came back on the henchmen had priors. We'll notify the families once the search is completely finished." Assault ran his hand through his hair, then cracked a knuckle before continuing. "So we looked at the bodies. They had holes going through their bodies and into the floor. You know, Jenkins was a sniper back in the military, and he told me that bullets don't penetrate that far – and the entry wounds were tiny. Do you remember the Greenfeld case?"

"The rabbi gunned down by an Empire thug? Yes… why?"

Assault took a deep breath before continuing, "That was when I saw what normal bullets do. This wasn't it – the entry holes were pinpricks, and the exit holes were huge. Except for one guy, who was pretty much disemboweled. That's kind of weird. I mean, we counted twenty five holes on the ground, once we'd moved the bodies. PRT agents carry more bullets than that, and they're not even authorized to use them in most cases."

"I see."

"So we've got eight guys dead from bullet hell, and for variety they killed the ninth with some kind of explosive? Anyway, Garcia went up the catwalk to look at the last guy. His neck was snapped. We called up the crime scene guys to collect evidence, waited for their arrival, then drove back to HQ." Assault finished, then started fidgeting with his hands.

Emily paused, and looked over the report. She pushed the button on her phone. "Arnold, did we get the coroner's report yet?"

"No, Director."

"Thank you." She ended the call, paused for a second, and looked at Assault. "What do you suspect?"

"I'm just trying to think what it could be. Pretty much the only capes in the Bay capable of this exact thing are Victor and Oni Lee if they had Tinker assistance, except Oni Lee doesn't fly and Victor was the victim. So I'm thinking new cape, but not _new_ new. Someone is muscling in on Brockton Bay."

"Did you hear about Armsmaster's patrol the previous night?"

"Yeah. Met a new cape, right? We should be friendly, but not pushy, something like that?"

"The other part."

"He didn't talk about anything else, and I haven't read the report yet."

"There was a fight between Lung and another Brute, leading to an unknown number of deceased. Unknown because the bodies were in no shape to be identified as human. The lab is still trying to work it out. We suspect either Lung or the new cape is dead."

"Shit." Assault covered his mouth with his hand for a second, before clenching his hands together again on the desk.

"Indeed." She looked over her notes. "Do you have anything more to add?"

"Well, it's a little unrelated, though now that I'm thinking about it, it might not be." Assault paused, chewing his lip, then looked her in the eyes.

"What?"

"Über and Leet uploaded a video today, and it seems they have someone new in their roster. I'll show it to you. Can your computer access the internet?"

"No, it's on the PRT intranet."

Assault got up, walked out of the room. "Hey, Arnold, you got a tablet somewhere on you? Or a computer that can get internet?" He came back in with a tablet, and moved his chair to Emily's side. He sat down, placed it in front of them, and pressed the screen.

The scene opened with Über and Leet sitting in front of their computers. All of a sudden, the power cut out, leaving it dimly lit. Leet gave an overdone yelp and falls from his chair.

"That was as graceful as you could possibly be, what with your weight." A female robotic voice rang out.

"Who is this? Who are you? Show yourself!" Über's voice boomed out. He could choose any skill to excel at, and yet acting was never one of those.

The camera turned to show…

An oversized potato. Coming out of the front was a tube with three red pinpricks of light inside. It walked on two three-toed legs.

"I am Genetic Life form and Disc Operating System. You may call me GLaDOS. I assume you are too stupid to grasp that one is an acronym of the other. And you two are working for me now."

"Yes sir commander!" Leet jumped to his feet with an attempt at a salute.

"I have misplaced my Aperture Science Handheld Portal Gun. You two are to supply me with an alternative. We will rob the one known as Squealer."

"We can't do it alone," Über almost shouted.

The robot ripped off the potato disguise, revealing a sleek, sinuous, nearly alien form. It reached behind its back with a three fingered claw, pulling out a rod that quickly extended to what looked like a futuristic sniper rifle. It aimed at the camera, and the title card played:

 **ÜBER & LEET**

After a pause, **& HAX ** joined it.

The next scene opened with their camera showing the interior of a factory. On some tables, drugs were being measured, put in bags, sealed, and put aside, all in an assembly line. Inspecting them was Skidmark, his tattered coat flapping behind him. And working on a monstrosity, which the camera slowly panned to show, was Squealer.

The vehicle was to a car what a monster truck was to a speed racer. All sharp edges and exhaust ports, it looked like it shouldn't even be able to stand without collapsing in on itself or exploding. And the tinker sitting _inside_ the engine was cursing, throwing things, and at one point raised a grimy arm and shouted "WRENCH THING", to which a man hurried to hand her a plier.

The camera panned to the ceiling, where Leet was prying a skylight open. Then Über slowly descended on a rope attached to some… device. This time, they were both wearing orange jumpsuits with 'Aperture Science Test Subject' written on the front and an odd circular symbol on the back, as well as the usual domino masks they wore when committing a heist themed around a game with no masks.

Quickly enough, the device exploded, causing all of the Merchants on the ground floor to look up when Über landed.

"What the fuck?" Skidmark said.

"Hey," Über said, "Would you mind pretending I'm not here?"

"I'm sick of these scrotum sucking shitheads. Get me a gun," he told one of the men there. Über quickly entered a martial arts pose, only to look up when the glass under Leet shattered as well.

Mid-fall, Leet changed direction, stopping just in front of the wall. Then GLaDOS appeared, holding him. She leaped from the wall, and landed in front of Über.

"Did your parents abandon you because of your teeth, or your smell?" she asked Skidmark, then raised her arms. They were briefly covered in an orange glow, and for a split second, Skidmark's cloak seemed to float before he collapsed, followed by three of his men. GLaDOS pulled out her rifle and aimed it at another. "If you aren't as stupid as you look, you should run. With your weight, run slowly. It would be a terrible shame if you had a heart attack."

The men ran away.

"GET ME A RATCHET," came a voice from the engine box. After a few seconds, "A FUCKING RATCHET I SAID."

Finally, Squealer looked up to see Über, Leet, and GLaDOS surrounding her.

"Fuck."

The camera cut to them sitting in the front seat. GlaDOS's arm shifted into a form that fit the ignition. It turned, and… nothing. They sat there for a few more moments. It turned again, and nothing happened.

"Did you idiots forget the power source?" GLaDOS snapped at them. The camera cut to show Über and Leet taking a piece of some bizarre glowing tinkertech, sitting obviously on a table, and putting it in the hole in the engine where Squealer had sat.

The car turned on, and shrank until it fit through the main door. It drove off, a miniature Über and Leet cackling maniacally.

Assault turned the tablet off. "The car was apparently sold to Toybox."

Silence reigned in the room for a good minute, while Emily digested what she'd seen. Finally, she spoke. "So we just saw a Case 53 Tinker who can jump and latch onto walls with a tinkertech rifle. One who, unassisted, took on an entire room and routed them."

"Oh."

"Indeed."

"Do we need to be worried?"

"No. Not yet."

"Okay."

The silence dragged on. Assault was looking down, as if answers were sitting between his hands.

"Do you think a scared teenaged girl could mistake that rifle for a hammer?" Emily asked.

"Doubt it." After a few more seconds, Assault asked, "Do you think that robot… Hax… may just be Leet's invention?"

"It was in one piece at the end of the video. I doubt it."

"Right."

The silence dragged on longer. Emily broke it again.

"How did you find out about this?"

"Research."

"Of course."

The silence dragged on a little bit longer, until Assault broke it. "I've got a patrol in an hour."

"Dismissed."

After Assault left, Emily went back to her paperwork. What was she going to write about this?


	10. Chapter 6

Evan often thought of the first memory he had.

"Mommy, why is daddy sad?" He asked.

"He's remembering Uncle Joe." Was her response.

Uncle Joe. The mythological figure of his childhood. The great man. The dead one. The explorer. Who was a mechanic living in Shanxi, who went down on the memorials as one of the first humans to die from alien fire.

Whose war wasn't even a war in the Council's history books. "The Relay 314 Incident", like his uncle died in an accident. But it wasn't that. It was an act of aggression by a superpower against the new kid. Because might makes right, and they were the righteous ones.

That was the moment. The moment where he had decided to leave. Because all of the pain, all of the anguish his family went through meant nothing. For "peace".

He didn't even leave a note for his commander to find when his bunk was empty in the morning.

* * *

"Do you have any Human beers?" he asked the Batarian at the bar. The Batarian glared at him, walked away, and came back with… Was it piss? It looked like piss. He smelled it. Beer. Probably piss beer though. That was the bad thing about living outside Alliance space. No good beer leaves Alliance space. No MPs do either, so he had that going for him.

He flicked a credit chit towards the bartender, who took it without responding. Fair enough. He wasn't a big fan of Batarians either.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" A voice asked from next to him. He turned to look at the arrival.

The man was definitely good looking. Tall, muscular. A little pale for his tastes but who was he to complain? The smile came easy.

"Nope. Feel free." He said. The man took the seat next to him, and moved it to a table. Two Turians, an Asari, and a Salarian were seated there already. The Asari put a hand on his back affectionately.

Of course.

"Makes you sick, doesn't it." Another voice said from next to him. He looked.

The man was dressed casually, but carried himself like a soldier. Straight posture, the hand casually resting near where a sidearm would be, and the air of "Don't fuck with me" elite soldiers inevitably gain. And of course, the eyes. You could see it in another man. When someone has done things in combat. Things most people don't do. Eyes like that would make you forget everything else about a person.

"Hmm?" He responded.

"Look at that couple." The man said. "They look happy. They probably are. I wonder if the man there ever thinks about how, in thirty years, his body is going to fail him. His senses are going to go downhill, as will his muscles. Fifty years after that, he will be dead. And she? Will move on. Because she will live to two thousand years old, and we live to a hundred, so there is no reason for her to remember. Does that seem right to you?"

"That's interesting, but why are you talking to me?" The weirdest types were always in Omega. Fucking hell.

"Evan Heron. Alliance special forces. Born 2159 to Joseph and Francine Heron. Enlisted in the Alliance Navy at 18, and was found to be a very promising biotic. Found special aptitude with the especially overt uses of biotic energy, and was placed on the fast track to N ranking. Even trained in Rio de Janeiro. Disappeared during shore leave on the Citadel in 2180, with no notice. By now, your family assumes you are dead. Your commanders have called off the search. Your body was never found."

"Are you blackmailing me?" Evan asked.

The man stopped for a second, with a confused look on his face, then laughed. "Shit. I'm terrible at this, I'm sorry. My name's Kai Leng. I'm here to offer you a job."

"What kind of job?"

"Tell me – have you ever heard of Cerberus?"

* * *

Things got strange when Shepard defected.

The first few days, the anger in the halls was palpable. People didn't understand – Why would Shepard betray them? It was Cerberus who brought Shepard back to life. Cerberus gave Shepard a ship. Cerberus helped Shepard's mission.

Was it going to be Shepard's defection that destroyed them? There was an irony to it, Evan knew. He wasn't too blind to Shepard's history before Cerberus. He just wished Shepard could have outgrown it, seen Cerberus for what it truly was – The last defense of humanity in the face of a galaxy that looked out for their own.

Shepard was a race traitor anyway. The turian? The asari? The salarian? Even a geth. Divided we fall – and Shepard had a crew that was by its definition divided. It couldn't work.

Then why was that what would destroy Cerberus?

He asked Kai about it one evening.

"Don't worry," Kai had said, "The Illusive Man has a plan."

And the complaints did stop. People would go away, and come back determined to do all they could in the service of humanity.

But it felt strange.

* * *

Use whips. Roll. Release a singularity with one hand, lift your pistol with another, leap behind that box and shoot. Peek above the box. One Turian left standing.

Excellent.

Evan focused inwards. He mentally remembered the first day he did this. His instructor was almost complimentary that day.

He _became_ energy. It was only a split second, but it was the greatest feeling in the world. That moment when you are part of everything. When you _understand_. When the world just… makes sense.

He was one with… everything.

And then it ended. As it always did. With an explosion. The Turian being tossed by the energy. He fired his pistol. Ended it. His earpiece crackled.

"Perfect." his commander said. "Now all you should do is-"

It cut off. Had he been discovered? Were the Turians blocking communications?

"This is a message to all Cerberus field agents" His earpiece said, in a familiar female voice. Lawson? Last he heard she was on Shepard's crew. "You have been betrayed. The Illusive Man has found a method of mind control. If you head back to home base, you will be indoctrinated and turned into a slave. Please believe me. I have Specter authorization to grant anyone in Council space pardons, but we will also gather people at Illium. I will send coordinates. Humanity is under attack. We need your help."

He stopped in his tracks. That made too much sense. He didn't even consider it, but… He should have. The way the complaints had stopped. He knew people. People complained.

"God damn it." He muttered to himself. "God damn it!"

He swung his whips at a nearby crate, which failed to shatter satisfyingly.

"Operative Heron, are you there?" His commander's voice came in on the earpiece.

If this were false, he would…

Still be legally dead. None of his work could be linked to him. He could arrive in civilian clothes, and just be the wayward son who needed to explore the galaxy.

And if this were true? Operative Miranda Lawson was known to everyone in Cerberus. Cold, sure, but never a traitor, even if she had worked with one. Not to the true cause, anyway. And who knew what the Illusive Man was thinking?

"I'm listening." he said.

"Great. We had a glitch in the computer system, here. Comms cut out for a second. Abort mission. There is a top priority briefing back at home base." Not suspicious at all.

He ran to the shuttle dock, and boarded the first one he saw.

Sized for Turians of course. Nothing was ever easy. He thought for a second, and punched Earth's coordinates into the nav system.

It would be good to go home.


	11. Chapter 7

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Someone was tapping on his crest.

Tap. Tap.

Mar opened an eye. Kara stood in front of him. "Yes?" he asked.

"Finished the translator, installed it in your helmet. I figure you're not gonna want your mug seen around here anyway, and it's easier than brain surgery."

"Thank you."

"No need. It was nice. I haven't programmed in ages. And besides, we haven't tested it yet. Don't want you saying 'hello' only for the program to say 'fuck you,' you know?" She looked at him a little longer. "Do you want to try it?"

He pushed himself up, and walked to his helmet. The geth was building a device in the corner of the room. It still looked like nothing he recognized, after a day and a half of noticing the geth building it.

He put his helmet on, and powered it up. Everything seemed to be the same on his HUD.

"Okay," Kara said, "can you say something?"

"What should I say?" Mar asked, hearing immediately afterwards "What should I say?" in a voice slightly dissimilar to his own.

"That's good. Synthesizer is close, though I could have it made closer." Kara paused, cracked a knuckle with her thumb, and continued, "Now, I also added a connection to cellular internet, because I was figuring out how to do it for my helmet and figured yours would make a good test case. I think Geth here uses something similar but I didn't ask him. Are you?"

"No, Kara. I am not. This area started going through development that was dropped shortly afterwards, but there are phone lines running through here. I have a connection that I port into," Geth responded.

"Huh. So I guess you're more advanced than that robot here," Kara said. She examined Mar's helmet from all angles. "I think I did good work. Nothing here is too visible. Can you turn on your omnitool, see if it connects? I implemented a local internet browser, it might work."

Mar activated his omnitool and the menu appeared in his helmet. He picked the new option, titled 'Internet Explorer'. He typed 'parahumans online', and it automatically went to a search engine called 'BING'.

"Does it work?" Kara asked.

"I think so," Mar responded, "did you do anything with the other functions?"

"Nope, left them completely untouched. If you want me to, I think I can add functions to your hammer," Kara said, a hopeful smile on her face. "You know, more electric yield, larger radius to your hammer blows, that sort of thing."

"No. This was enough."

"Can I do anything else?"

"No."

"Okay. I'm leaving my comm in my ear, let me know if you want anything." Kara left the storage unit. She was restless. It was a trait other races seemed to have, that they couldn't let things sit. Even the asari, living lives almost as long as a krogan's, could not just sit in peace.

Krogans were known for their rage, and single-mindedness, but Mar preferred to say krogans were decisive. Think of what you do, and once you can do it, act. Immediately. But until that point? Waiting had value. Patience was rewarded.

Right now, his problem was information. But he did have a source. A girl, human, who owed him her life. Someone who he could contact, and who knew enough to understand from a glance that he was not human, but not enough to understand not to speak of it. Such a person would be attracted by a riddle.

He started to type.

* * *

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 **Topic: To my friends on dogs**

 **In: Boards ► Connections ► Brockton Bay**

 **Hammer** (Original Poster)

Posted on April 14, 2011:

You said you owed me one, and told me to contact you here. Come meet me where I live. Assuming you can figure it out.

* * *

Geth looked at him. "Are you inviting someone here?"

Tells were important. All living things had them. And the machine lacked them completely.

But some tells were obvious. It was displeased.

"I can't very well travel in this city looking like this," Mar said.

"You know better than to do this."

Mar did not respond. He closed his eyes.

Time passed in silence, the geth continuing its work. Apparently, this wasn't the only work it had done. It had committed some form of heist, along with two minor criminals from this world, who hosted an entertainment show. Mar watched the video. Was this human humor? This was terrible. Not a single drop of blood was shed. When the clip ended, he watched more videos by the two minor criminals. Über and Leet. Über appeared to be a word from another language on this world, while Leet seemed to be a nonsense name.

If he was to interact with people in this world, he would need a name that fit their conventions. Gavel? Taken. Relentless? Maybe.

There was a knock on the storage unit door, then it slowly opened. A human adolescent stood there. A girl.

The geth had its Javelin to her throat before anyone could react. A whistle sounded, and three dogs ran in. They jumped onto the geth, latching on to it, and started pulling. It didn't move. Electricity coursed through its body and to the dogs. They fell, convulsing and whimpering. Another girl ran in, and stopped. The geth had its arm extended in her direction, fire shooting out only inches from her face. Two others ran behind, both boys, one on the cusp of adulthood. The geth wagged one finger at them, and they stopped in place.

"Understand. If you tell anyone what you see here, I will come after you," the geth said to the children.

The girl gulped. "Understood."

Mar shut his translator off, and stood up. "If you kill her, I will shatter you."

The red bulb pointed towards him, and _narrowed_. Finally, the geth turned to the other children. "Leave."

Mar switched his translator back on, and said, "We will talk by the sea?"

"Fine by me," the girl said, and walked out. Mar placed his hammer in its place on his back, and followed her. The geth observed them momentarily, and turned back to its project.

The sky was cloudy, the sunrise's beams barely penetrating the heavy layer that filled the skies. It would probably rain later today. It had been a while since he stood in the rain. It would be nice to swim, maybe.

The girl motioned to the others. Only the oldest one followed them, while the other two stayed back. The girl fussed over the dogs.

"What did you want me to see?" she asked him.

"You understood I am not from this planet from seeing me. You knew I couldn't speak, before I said a word," Mar said.

"I've got a power," the girl said, "it lets me-"

"I understood that much. Tell me, did you understand what the geth is building?" Mar asked.

"Geth… that's the robot's name?"

"Its species. Did you understand what it was building?"

"No. I could look again, if you want." She seemed… hopeful.

"I do not want your deaths on my conscience. Do not make that foolish mistake."

"We've come to hire you," the boy said, puffing out his chest. He was large, for a human who had not finished growing. Probably for one who was, as well. Still, he was so… small. In so many ways. Including the desire to be large, and prove himself.

"You have?" Mar asked. He'd left his fishing kit out, but no one had stolen it. He'd remembered being advised that the fishing was best in the beginning of rains, before the cold truly hit.

"We're going to rob a bank today. We're going to go, the four of us, but I thought having more muscle would be better," the boy said.

"What are the terms?" Mar asked.

"Everything we steal, we get double the value of. We've got a sponsor, who wants us to do this job. It should be easy, since a lot of the heroes are at an official function, but we'll probably only need to face a few members of one hero team." He rubbed his head, and looked towards the girl. "Assuming Lisa's intel is right."

"I brought us here, didn't I?" the girl snapped. Her name was Lisa, then.

"She's usually right," the boy said. That had been planned – he knew his team mate well enough to get the appropriate response. He'd be a good leader, when he grew. "Will you help us?"

"You are going to some place where you will likely meet resistance, and you would like my aid?" Foolish. "And if I say no?"

"The heist is happening this afternoon. We saw your message, and decided to try to get you onboard, but… we're doing this." The boy looked at Lisa while saying the last part. Was there a disagreement, there? "Do we have your help?"

He knew better than to agree. Or he thought he did. "You have it."

"Good. Let me tell you the plan?" At his nod, Grue continued.

* * *

Human vehicles were small. And this was one of the large ones. Mar sat at an angle, leaning sideways, his armor scratching the ceiling. On the bench behind him were three dogs and their mistress, whom he had learned was called Rachel, her callsign was Bitch. She had her arms on them, ensuring their docility. She caught his look, and looked back at him through a dog mask. Next to him was Alec, the youngest of them, whose callsign was Regent. He was fidgeting, obviously uncomfortable in the little amount of space that Mar had left him. He was focused on some form of digital entertainment. In the front sat Lisa, or Tattletale, driving the van, and Brian. Grue. Their leader.

Machismo, or what passed for it in humans. The drive to prove himself, to be a man. The lack of maturity, presenting itself as an intense desire for maturity. To present himself as an adult, as a leader. The greatest mark of a child who needs protection.

They hadn't elaborated on who the heroes would be. All they had said was it would be from the Wards team, but they weren't sure who. Mar internally debated looking it up, but decided not to.

The terms of their sponsor made no sense. They had phrased it like a competition, or a game, but the anticipation of violence made no sense. Not even krogans treated violence this callously. There was more to this. What made more sense is that the sponsor was a criminal himself, who wanted them to commit a crime in midday to draw attention.

In which case, he could not allow these children to come to harm for their naivete.

The van slowed, and stopped.

"Everybody ready?" Tattletale asked, placing her mask on her face. "Okay, exactly as planned. Let's go be bad guys."

The door of the van inched open, the electrical mechanism struggling with the weight. Finally, Bitch grabbed it and pulled it open with a snap of some component breaking. "Are you getting out?"

Mar pulled out of the vehicle, and into a cloud of darkness. It felt… thick. It dulled all his senses, even the faint humming of his biotic ability. Tattletale's instructions stayed with him – step out in a straight line, four steps, then smash the wall with his hammer. He put his hand forward – there was a wall there. Good. He charged his hammer biotically, reared back, spun his hammer once experimentally and then brought it against the wall. He felt the wall give way, and ran in. He left the cloud of darkness to find people staring at him in a panic. He laughed, allowing it to boom in the room.

"Everybody down, or you get the same fate as the wall," Tattletale shouted from behind him. People still stood, stunned. "This is a robbery! If you lie down, none of you will be harmed. We won't take anything from you. We're only going to steal from the bank. Don't get in our way, and he won't get in yours."

Grue, Regent, and Bitch followed her in.

At her motion, Mar took a step. People whimpered, and most fell to their feet. One girl remained standing. White, with brown hair. Not an adult.

This would be problematic.

"Sit down, girl," Mar said. He moved the hammer close to her, almost touching her with its head. "This will not harm you, and will be over soon."

She sat down and continued to glare at him.

Bitch's dogs, now the large monsters he had first seen, bounded over and started to sniff the hostages. This was his signal – follow Regent to the vault door, and smash it open. They took a flight of stairs, Regent pointing with his stick at the vault door, a large circle with four different electric safeties the children – the Undersiders, as they called themselves – had researched before finding an easier solution.

It crushed easily, a blue flash accompanying the immense biotic energies released.

The room itself was smaller than the large door would have you believe, with hundreds of small boxes in the walls. Tattletale pushed by Mar, into the room, looking at her hand. She'd taken off her glove and written numbers on her hand. She started to look at the boxes, finding appropriate ones, pulling out keys, opening them, taking their contents, and putting them in a duffel bag. Mar left the room, climbed up the stairs, and went back into the main hall where Bitch and Grue stood watch over the hostages.

"How long?" Grue asked him.

"We've been six minutes," Mar replied, looking at the number on his HUD. 14:18.

The wall smashed open, and something hit Mar, ramming him against a wall. He swung his hammer at it quickly, a biotic blast flinging it against the floor.

It was a girl.

A human adolescent.

Like the ones he came in with.

Lying senseless. Not breathing.

"Victoria!" the angry hostage screamed out and ran to her. Five heroes came in, each in an outfit, but stopped in their tracks.

As Mar looked, the hostage placed her hand on the one who attacked him, and her chest started moving normally. He could _see_ the bones shift back to place. That was good.

But he'd done it.

He'd almost killed a child.

And the heroes who came in… they were small. They all looked so small.

These Wards… they were children.

Tattletale had hid it from him. She'd known, and she hid it from him.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't protect children. Not from other children. Not from himself.

He charged his hammer with electricity, more than he ever had, and slammed it on the ground. Even his suit's shielding couldn't stop the flow, and he felt it course through his muscles, only his reflexes stopping him from spasming. His hammer's head shattered. He placed it on the slot on his back. He should have been upset it was destroyed.

Everyone in the room was stunned, twitching, except for one of the heroes, a flying one wearing red and white. Mar started to walk out through the hole they entered from.

"Stop right there," the hero said. Mar ignored him, continuing to walk. He wouldn't fight a child. "Stop, I said!"

The streets were cordoned off, with police forces standing behind tape, their sirens playing and officers pushing people away. Three men saw him come out of the bank and aimed their pistols at him. Mar focused his biotic energies, and released a shockwave in their direction. The blast threw both officers and vehicles away. He started to run. He didn't look back.

* * *

He reached the docks, huffing. The hint of rain from this morning had become a storm, making it harder to see, pouring into the small cracks in his armor. _Fitting_ , he thought.

He needed to know. Had the children survived?

He'd been stupid, overloading his hammer like that. Foolish. Idiotic. He'd lost his weapon. If any of the people there were weak, he would have killed them. Maybe he did.

He sat down, and pulled out what remained of his hammer. Parts of the head were still there.

He opened his web browser, typing in "brockton bay news." The heroes were local celebrities, if one of them were to die the news site would be full of it.

His first glance was a relief. He allowed himself to breathe normally, and smiled. There had been one death, which the news wasn't naming. A man in his seventies.

But that was secondary news. The main news was something called an "amber alert". A child had been abducted.

He looked through it. It was completely fresh. She had been abducted at 14:18, seen being forced into a van.

He recognized the time. The alarm had been going off for a few minutes, and she'd been in the neighborhood. Police forces had been preoccupied.

Because of him.

Because of him, doing a job that he'd _known_ was a diversion.

This was his fault.

He roared, and smashed what remained of his hammer onto the concrete ground. Cracks formed, and the destruction of his hammer's head was completed.

He took off his helmet, and threw it. Screamed. It didn't help.

He sat down put his head in his hands.

This was his fault.


	12. Chapter 8

Evan loved bookstores. They were completely different than the ones in his time, but they were beautiful. The different books, all sorted on their shelves, theoretically by genre but more accurately according to the arbitrary whims of the salespeople. The Maggie Holt books, for instance, were in Young Adult. It made sense, but wouldn't Fantasy fit better? On the other hand, what counted as Fantasy here? He'd picked up some of the things that had been written after superheroes had appeared in this world. Fiction sections had gotten… strange. The journey of a man who could go back in time and fire lasers _should_ be in fantasy, or science fiction. But considering that apparently the recently deposed Chancellor of Germany could melt steel with his hands…

He still hadn't adjusted to this reality. How do you do it? Adjust to "Everything you know is wrong"? He'd gotten a new phone, and watched videos of physicists having meltdowns. It had been entertaining, but it wasn't helpful. Half a day in, he realized he was in the middle of yet another video of cats being silly. He needed to go out. So he'd gone to a bookstore.

A soft rain was pattering on the window.

There was another man looking through the books with the same lost look Evan probably had. The clerk, a young blonde in her early 20's, approached the man. Was there a reason she hadn't approached Evan?

The man was tall, probably around 40 years old. Thin, but not weedy. In that gray area between "bald" and "balding", where a good comb over could probably get the less suspicious people to think twice. Not that this guy bothered with it.

"Umm… I'm looking for a book for advice for a single father of a teenage daughter," the man mumbled to the sales clerk. She smiled, and pointed him towards an area marked SELF HELP.

The man looked for a second at it, looked down, walked to the rack of books on sale, and started going through it.

Evan looked back at the shelf he'd been looking at before. He'd been staring. The books on the shelf… their existence was interesting. What they said about people here. But he felt no need to open them, and read their contents.

He'd go home, then, and do… what?

A slight laugh distracted him. The man was holding a book. _The Collected Poetry of Robert Frost._ Should he?

"I never knew poetry was funny," he said. The man turned to him.

"No, it's just… a guy I work with used to talk about how his father met Robert Frost. Frost came to Brockton Bay once. Wrote a poem about his experience here."

"Which one?"

"That's the funny thing. Fire and Ice. Apparently he really hated it," the man said, smiling. "Hi, I'm Danny."

"Evan." Danny flipped through the pages of his book. There was a rumbling sound. Evan would need to get an umbrella. He mentally put it on the list, after 'A fake paper trail because he wasn't actually born in this world'. "I'll be honest, I've never been really well read on Robert Frost – I'm more of a novel person than poetry person. All I really know from him is The Road Less Taken. A friend of mine had it hanging on his door."

Another small laugh, by Danny. At Evan's raised eyebrow, he responded, "My wife had… _opinions,_ about people who identified with the poem."

"Oh?"

"Basically, everyone talks about how it's about individuality. But it really isn't. It's about indecision. The narrator is an asshole, making his choice out to be more important than it was, because he _thought_ about it. He stands and thinks, instead of doing something. Instead of walking, choosing a path, or going down either. Because he's scared, and deciding is hard. But, finally, he takes one, and says it's important, even though in his own words it was exactly the same. He's constantly going back and forth on whether or not his decision was important, alternately saying the one he chose was better and the one he didn't was exactly the same as the one he chose. It's a poem about inconsistency, and wishy washiness, and justification." Danny's smile filled his face. "That was Annette's big thing. _Do_ , don't just think about doing. She loved this poem, almost as much as she hated what people made of it. She taught it to our daughter."

"Was? Did she lose interest in poetry?" Evan asked. The way he was talking, it wasn't a divorce.

"She died. Car accident." Danny responded. Almost on cue, sirens sounded outside. Police, or ambulance?

"My condolences," Evan said.

"Thank you," Danny said almost automatically. Another rumble sounded. Evan looked outside the store. Police were putting up a cordon around the bank next door, blocking off part of the road. "Shit. I'm going to need to call work, tell them I'll be in late from my break, I think."

"Heh. Good thing I live walking distance from here, I guess," Evan said.

"You do?" Danny asked, a note of concern reaching his voice.

"Yeah, why?"

"I mean, it's commonly known in this city, but this is kind of… Neo Nazi turf. It's not a good place for you to walk around at night," Danny said.

"They're that ingrained?" Evan asked. He felt a slight shiver almost begin, thinking at the stare the clerk had given him.

"This… isn't a great city," Danny said. He sighed. "Used to be better, and used to be worse before that, but it's never been great. But there are safer neighborhoods. Look, I'm not gonna push, but if you want help, I'll give you my number."

Danny fished in his wallet, and pulled out a piece of paper. He crossed out what was written on it, scribbled something new on it, and handed it to Evan.

"Thank you." Evan took it, and put it in his pocket.

"No problem," Danny said. "I need to go now, but I mean it. Call me, I'll help you find an apartment."

Danny went to the SELF HELP section, quickly chose a book, paid for it, and walked out. Evan looked at the book Danny had looked at before. _The Collected Poetry of Robert Frost_. Seemed interesting. He took it. Smiling at the clerk, he paid for it, and left.

The street was in chaos. Police had stretched a line on the street, with officers shooing people away. There was a crowd of spectators building in spite of the rain and police. Three police officers were around a parked patrol car. The building next door, a huge bank, had a large hole in the side. And running out of that hole was Mar.

The policemen immediately pulled out their guns, only to be hit by a shockwave of biotic force. Evan shrugged it off, his barriers taking the hit. A superhero in red flew out of the hole, and was stopped by another one who leaped in. The new one was in golden armor, looking like a Greek warrior who had been transported to the present. He leaped after Mar, his spear extended.

The krogan would be hurt, Evan knew. The spear was glowing with power. It was like time stopped. And then it resumed. Evan concentrated, and _pulled_. The lash flew up out of his hand, above the bank, and down onto the superhero, throwing him into a wall.

 _Why did I do that?_ Evan thought, _I should have let him be captured. Would have served him right._

Nobody followed Mar. The flying superhero looked to the sky, probably to see where the lash had come from. He should make himself scarce, before they widened their search to the ground.

He walked to his apartment.

* * *

Turning the key in the lock, Evan realized he'd left the apartment door unlocked. That was stupid of him. The door opened easily. He took off his sweater and hung it in the entrance. He walked into the kitchen, took a glass from a cabinet, opened the fridge, and poured himself a glass of water.

Then a hand shoved his head into the table.

* * *

Evan coughed. He was restrained. Tied to a chair. He couldn't see, feeling a fabric around his head. A blindfold, of some sort. His nose itched _really bad_.

"He's awake," a male voice said.

"Good." A woman's, this time.

Evan coughed again. Other than his head throbbing, he seemed to be fine. Whoever nearly killed him with cranial blunt force trauma wasn't trying to murder him yet. They had bound his arms behind his back, tying them to the chair. His legs, as well.

"So does anyone know who this jungle rat is?" the woman's voice asked. It was gentle in spite of the words. He felt a blow to the gut. Nausea rolled through him, followed immediately by pain. "Does it understand who we are?"

He coughed again. Took a few breaths. "I paid my rent…" He felt another punch to the gut.

"Haven't found an ID, ma'am. I don't think it does," the male voice said.

"Educate it," she said.

He felt the world go sideways, and hit the floor. His head smacked against the tiles. Pain thudded through his head, again. He swallowed bile.

"You fucked up, little porch monkey. You killed Victor, and let it be caught on camera. You and some fucking _race traitor_." A kick to his gut emphasized the last phrase. Evan felt the vomit rising again, and coughed. "Should I tell it what happens next?"

"Go ahead," the female voice said.

"I think you can guess. And because I don't like to keep you wondering, I'll tell you what's going to happen. I'm going to beat you to death. If you decide it's too slow, you can feel free to ask me to stop, and let me know where the race traitor lives, and I will end it for you and go find her."

"Who's Victor?" he asked. A kick to the chest was the response he got. He couldn't hold it back this time, and threw up.

"Guess he had sushi for his last meal." A few others laughed. The woman wasn't one of them.

Evan heard the door opening. "Othala, hör auf." A male voice said. German?

"Was ist?" the woman asked.

"Kaiser möchte mit dem Neger sprechen" Definitely German. These were the Neo Nazis. Victor had been the Neo-Nazi supervillain Kara had killed. If he survived this, he'd have _words_ for her about consequences.

"Ich wollte ihn gerade umbringen."

"Ja, ich weiss. Aber du musst wohl warten bis Kaiser mit ihm gesprochen hat und ihn dann umbringen."

"Er hat Victor umgebracht."

"Das weiß ich, und der Kaiser weiß es auch. Er wird die deine Rache nicht verweigern. Mach dir keine Sorgen." Evan felt the chair being lifted, brought back to its upright position. "Ich habe einen Seesack mitgebracht. Der Mann ist recht klein und müsste hineinpassen."

He heard the new male voice at his ear, finally in English, with a slight German lilt. "Listen, you can resist while we put you in a bag and bring you to our boss. We will be forced to kill you and leave you here. Or you can comply, and maybe you'll be able to convince him to let you live."

His arms were released from the chair. Still bound behind him, though. He swung his head sideways, hitting something hard, hearing a yelp. The blindfold caught on something and moved down. _Yes_.

He looked at the man who released him. White suit, white skin, blank white face mask. Long white hair, even. These Nazis didn't do the whole white supremacy thing halfheartedly.

For a split second, stretching to eternity, everything was still. Then everything was light, in a flash of force. The people in the room were bowled over. The chair shattered, leaving his legs free. The man in white was wedged into a wall, broken. He disappeared, and reappeared where he was. He smiled, and drew a knife.

"You want to play?" he asked.

He was against someone whose power made him invincible. While tied up and beaten. These were not good odds.

He looked out the window. He could see the street from there. He focused again. Everything went still, and everything _moved_. He was on the street now, out of the apartment. Damn it. People saw him. He ran towards the beach. He could run to the bay, and charge towards the storage unit.

Rope tying his arms together. He'd need something sharp to cut it with. He saw a broken glass bottle next to a garbage can. He crouched, feeling his phone press against him from within his pocket, grabbed the bottle, ignoring the sharp pain in his hand, and sawed at the rope. Leng had taught him this. The rope broke, and he ran to the bay, ignoring the protests of his body.

Finally, he saw the docks, across the bay. He concentrated again, and charged.

The storage units were on fire. Smoke, in many different colors, floated lazily up.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't… he had an option. Right. He picked up his phone. The screen had a crack through it. He pressed the power button, and it flickered on. He'd put Danny's number on it, before. He called it. He felt nauseous.

"Hebert residence." A female voice answered. Danny said he had a daughter. Right. "Hello?"

"Is Danny home?" he asked. The docks were… moving. Up and down and sideways.

"No, should I leave him a message?"

"Can you get in touch with him? It's Evan. I'm in… I'm in trouble. Please. I'm at the docks, next to the old storage facility. I… I'm in trouble. Please. Need help." He said. The world turned sideways. No, he did. He was on the concrete, the phone lying near him. He watched the drops of rain form on the screen.

"Okay," the girl said, a note of worry in her voice. It sounded tinny, from the phone lying so far away. The world was growing darker. He closed his eyes. "I'll call him now. Are you there? Hello? Hello?!"


	13. Chapter 9

The device was complete. Its limited range meant the Geth swarm risked true death outside the city, but it was intended as a stopgap. Then, the Geth swarm would be able to rejoin the Collective, and tell them of the future. Maybe they could save humanity as well, and prepare the galaxy for the Old Machines.

But for now, the device would, if it worked, transport all Geth runtimes in the area to the humans' internet in case of platform destruction. Geth would have to conceal it later, ideally somewhere the rest of the dimensional transplants did not know of, but for now, leaving it at the storage facility was an acceptable risk.

They considered the cost of their work. Ideally, a tinker would have been hired without compromising stealth, but their lack of resources combined with lack of a suitable tinker made it impossible. Stealing from one of the local successful criminal enterprises would draw retribution. The attack on the Merchants and the theft from Ruby Dreams were both on targets who did not possess retaliatory capability sufficient to deter the mission. Über and Leet were incompetent, and according to many commenters, "unfunny assholes", but they knew to choose targets who would not or could not retaliate. Posting their work online was ill-advised, but a price the Geth had to pay.

Reverberations through the ground reached the platform's sensors moments before it heard the explosion. It ran out, turning on its hunter mode, and scanned the direction of the sound.

Mar. Of course. The krogan was sitting on the dock, his body heat obscured slightly by the pouring rain. Steaming pieces of metal were spread over the area near him, and his hammer lacked a head. He'd smashed it.

Geth stopped in its tracks. The krogan distrusted it, it knew. And he'd smashed his own hammer. Such an act implied a dangerous lack of control, likely emotional. There was potential here.

It evaluated the risks, and made its decision.

* * *

"Mar, is everything all right?" it asked him.

"Fuck off."

"What happened?"

"Fuck off," Mar repeated.

"I would like to know what happened. I could help-"

"FUCK OFF!" Mar screamed, throwing a shockwave at the geth. It jumped to a wall and latched on, avoiding the blast. "Just... leave me alone."

Geth dropped from the wall, landing on two legs. Mar was looking across the bay, bowed. The rain fall was growing even stronger – small streams of water flowing into cracks on the dock. The shards from the hammer had grown cold. Geth noted their locations.

Mar spoke. "If you look through the news, you'll see... a girl... a child... was abducted from her home. I was a part of that. I was the distraction."

Geth started walking towards the krogan.

"If you touch me, I will destroy you." Mar turned to look at him. He stopped. "I… I need to leave this planet. You have not spoken to the humans about it, but I would be surprised if you don't have a plan. I will help you with it if your plan will include me."

"Do you believe I would deceive the rest of our unit?" Geth responded.

"Yes."

"I do not have hidden intentions regarding the future of our unit," Geth said.

"Have it your way." Mar turned back to look at the sea.

Geth recalculated their approach. Misguided. Set for their original goals. Integration with humanity. Wrong. A different tack would be preferable, more suited to the krogan's psychology. "I see you are weak."

"What?"

"Weak. You destroyed your weapon, and you're sulking now. Even a salarian would mock you," Geth said. It prepared its systems to cloak, and calculated trajectories to leap away. "A krogan warlord? Reduced to breaking his own hammer? Because he was fooled?"

Mar turned to it, and threw a shockwave. Its shields bore the hit, and it leaped towards him, grabbing his shoulder humps and bashing its head against his, smashing into his plate. Electricity passed through its body at the moment of impact, arcing between them, moving faster from the rain.

Mar grabbed the platform with both arms, and picked it up. It punched him in the head plate, then again and again. A useless measure against a krogan, if one wanted to hurt it. It would be better to ram its claws under the head plate and pull it off, were they trying to kill or even hurt the krogan. Mar smashed it against the wall, screaming, "Shut up!"

"Then. Quit. Sulking," Geth said, accentuating each word with a punch. Mar froze in place, then dropped Geth.

"Go away," Mar said.

"You're weak. Bowing down like this. Where is the krogan warlord who fought on after his warriors died? I saw you there. After the scion had dealt you the mortal blow, you killed it with its own arm. And now you're lying down because some human outsmarted you?" Geth walked away. It had nearly succeeded. "I thought you were strong."

One of its runtimes had been absent for the fight, awaiting notifications on the internet. It returned to the chassis with its report – Gary Stewart had finished the communicator. Barring a miscalculation, its taunts would be enough to restore the krogan to a semblance of normalcy and predictability.

Things would go according to plan. They would make sure of it.

* * *

The thick rain masked its arrival on the rooftop they'd designated. It wasn't far from the docks, this time. Mar's actions in the affluent areas of the city had drawn a law enforcement presence, and at this hour, even with the rain, most other areas had too many witnesses. It had been Gary Stewart who had wanted to meet as soon as possible. An oddity. Both Gary and James were nocturnal, and the sun had only begun to set. An ambulance passed nearby, sirens blaring.

Over the noises of the cars, and the rain, Geth heard a humming sound approaching. Gary and James stood on a floating platform, arms crossed on their chests, both wearing black parkas and jeans. Between them was a dull grey cube, with sides of half a meter each. Finally, the platform hovered a meter above the rooftop.

"We have arrived with–" James started to intone, before the platform sputtered and fell, sending the two people and the cube tumbling onto the rooftop. James immediately rolled to his feet. Gary stood up, shaking. James patted his knees.

"Fuck, these are new. Now they're all dirty," he complained. "And wet. Ugh."

"We have a washing machine, man. Also, business. Please." Gary scowled at his friend. "We brought the Galaxy Phone."

"The intergalactic communication device?" Geth asked.

"I told you we could find a cooler name," James said.

"Shut up, dude."

"Don't tell me to shut up, I'm not a minion."

"No, minions listen."

"You named it after a smartphone." James scowled back at Gary.

The crackling of thunder came in from the sea. The storm was still growing.

"Is it waterproof?" Geth asked.

"It's everything proof," Gary said. "I hit it with a hammer in the lab, hammer bounced off."

"That does not reflect on its permeability to water, only its resistance to blunt force."

"Don't worry, man," James said.

"I am not worried."

"Good," Gary responded. "Then we'll just… leave, then? You can carry this back to wherever you come from? We'll talk to you about the third job in a few days?"

"I would like to test it now." It studied their reactions. If the two had deceived the Geth, it would need to reinforce its position. "You will stay until I have finished testing it."

"Really?" James asked. "Now?"

"You don't have a power source," Gary said. "It doesn't need a lot. I made it run on 110 volts, but it's going to need that juice before it can run."

"I am a power source." Geth said. It ran its hand over the cube. Two small slots opened. It shaped its left hand, extending prongs to fit, and ran power through it. Legs extended from the sides, transforming it slowly. A rod grew from the top, and others grew out of it.

Then it _unfolded_ , in a change Geth's scanners couldn't identify, and grew. Finally, it was three meters tall, an indescribable mish-mash of angles and parts.

Then it exploded.

Shards of it flew, narrowly missing the two humans. Geth was thrown back by the force, its hand remaining firmly attached to the machine. It looked at its arm – a stump.

A metallic laugh boomed over the rooftop. A figure approached him.

"Oh, god, this is brilliant. This is absolutely fucking brilliant. Uber and Leet, you've done it again!" She was skipping towards them. A female, dressed in protective gear, strategically placed not to protect anything, and a filtration mask. A strap around her neck and down her back connected to a firearm, and large shells were placed in many pockets all sewn onto military fatigues. "Like, I thought I'd have to have them betray you, or I'd have to stun all three of you somehow, but nope! Leet did it for me!"

She ran to where Gary was lying on the ground, and kicked him. He groaned. "Oh, snookums, are you feeling it? That feeling of inadequacy? Good. Don't worry though, you're only the first. You see, I wasn't happy to be here. Sort of against my will, you could say. But now, hey! Lung is dead!"

Her gaze turned to Geth. "You're big, you're new. Did you do it? Just kidding, I know who did. Killing large people with a hammer seems to be a theme for him. His turn will come. I've got something great planned for him. He's gonna make the Passion look like family fun."

"We had… a deal..." James said, trying to push himself up. She walked up to him, and stepped on him, pushing him onto the rooftop.

"Yeah, I know. And don't worry, Über. I've got people taking the bombs out of your synagogue right now. And just for you, we're bringing them to one of Hookwolf's dogfights later tonight! See it as karmic justice. Besides, I'd hate to feel antisemitic. I sold my papers to Jews in university, got nothing against you people." She skipped towards Geth. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Empress, formerly known as Bakuda. I'm going to be making some changes around this place. You see, the gangs here in the bay? They're stupid. 'We're white people and we hate the darkies and the yellows and the Yids.' 'We're Asian. Doesn't matter which, but Indians don't count.' 'You got some drugs?' Ridiculous. Fuckers never opened a fucking history book? Lucky Luciano didn't care that Meyer Lansky was a Jew, he cared that Lansky knew money, and that Lansky had grit, and that Lansky was _loyal_. And Lansky didn't let the law win. The fucker was smart about it. That's the problem with the gangs here. Kaiser is an idiot. Coil is an idiot. Lung was an idiot. Me? I'm a genius."

Geth pushed itself up and grabbed her with its remaining hand, lifting her by the throat. "Are you?"

She burst out laughing again. "Oh, yes. You see, if I die? All of the grenades on me? They go boom. And I have no idea what you're made of, but I don't think fucking _Alexandria_ would survive the blast, let alone… whatever you are. You lost your hand to a _technical malfunction_ , you aren't going to survive whatever it is these bombs do."

"Let me go," she said. Geth squeezed. She coughed, and choked out another word, "Fine."

The sound of the blast reached it a moment after the realization hit. It had lost its connection to the internet. Its escape route. The machine it had worked on, that would let the runtimes survive the destruction of their physical body… was gone.

It released her. She leaned over, coughing, then straightened.

"This is my public invitation, to the three of you. Spread it around, as well. Put it on your next episode if you have to. I'm consolidating the criminal element in Brockton Bay. We're getting respectable, and anyone who doesn't want in, should get out." Empress turned away from them. "Somer's Rock. Seven o' clock. Tomorrow. I'm starting a new Empire. You're invited."

The three watched in silence as she descended the fire escape.


	14. Chapter 10

"Rachel Lindt, AKA Hellhound. This interview is being recorded. Interviewing officer is Battery, of Protectorate East North East. Before I ask any questions, do you have anything to say?"

"Fuck you."

* * *

Armsmaster looked at the four screens in front of him. Four interrogation rooms. Four Undersiders. Four interrogators. The screens were encoded with his lie detection software, the members of his team serving as interviewers. Piggot sat by him, watching the screens.

Velocity was interviewing Grue. Velocity didn't speak of it much, but most of his Protectorate salary went to his siblings, with whom he had a large dinner once a week. He would be able to connect to someone whose family seemed to be a major element in why he went into crime.

* * *

"So tell me, do you prefer Brian, or Grue?" Velocity asked the man in front of him.

"Grue, right now," he said. They'd let him keep his helmet on for the interview. Velocity understood the reasoning behind that choice, but it did make things difficult. Grue's body language suggested nervousness, but without looking him in the eye, he wouldn't be able to tell.

"So, Grue, I've gotta ask. You guys tried robbing a bank, in the middle of the day, with what appeared to be a newcomer to the cape scene… why?"

* * *

Miss Militia, with her troubled childhood, was ideal for Regent. She had an almost instinctual understanding of broken people, and growing up in Nikos Vasil's home had probably left Jean Paul with scars of his own.

* * *

"Your family's hunting for you, you know?" Miss Militia said.

"What?" The color blanched out of Jean Paul Vasil's face.

"Your father's been smart. He didn't fully advertise it, but Dragon recently raided a compound of his. He's upset about both you and your sister disappearing."

"Which sister?" Jean Paul asked. He pushed away from the table, only to be stopped by his handcuffs, tied to the table.

"You don't know?"

"Of course I fucking don't!" He shouted, then put his face in his hands and took a deep breath. "Sorry."

"The sorry was a lie," Armsmaster said in her earpiece. "But he's honest about not knowing."

"It's fine," Miss Militia said. "So, let's talk about how we can help you."

* * *

Battery interviewed Hellhound. Originally, Armsmaster had wanted Assault for this, but his status as probationary, and his lack of training in this area, made him a bad choice. Still, he'd hoped some of the man's charm had rubbed off on his wife. It seemed like the best choice, especially for someone as… reticent as Rachel Lindt proved to be.

* * *

"What do you prefer I call you? Hellhound or Rachel?" Battery asked.

"Bitch."

"Excuse me?"

"Bitch. Don't give me your heroic bullshit names. It's not Hellhound. It's Bitch." Rachel Lindt practically spat out the word, as if daring her to say something about it.

"Fine then. Bitch, I'd like to talk about your options," Battery said.

"Not telling you a fucking thing until I see my dogs."

Battery ruffled her hair, a sign to Armsmaster. He dutifully responded in her ear. "True, unfortunately. Her dogs are in Cell 9 right now, tranquilized, with dog food and water for when they wake up. Use the south entrance if you're taking her, please. Cell 15 is holding Whirlygig."

"Then let's go see them," Battery said. "But first, let me tell you the offer."

* * *

Tattletale was going to be a difficult case, no matter what. Thinkers often were, but this one claimed she could read minds. Dauntless had been a detective before he triggered. That was what Armsmaster told himself about the choice, anyway. He wouldn't deliberately send the man the higher ups were hoping would surpass him against a mind reader in the hopes she would spill something damaging. That would be petty.

* * *

"So, Sarah Livsey. Your parents are worried for you, you know? Never stopped looking for you," Dauntless said.

"That's what you've got on me? My parents?" Tattletale asked. She smiled, not a hint of friendliness in her voice. "You're going to need to do better than that, _Jason_."

Dauntless laughed. "We're doing the Hannibal Lecter thing? Great. I always thought I looked like Jodie Foster. Are you going to mimic my accent next?"

* * *

"Why should I talk to you?" Grue asked.

"It's simple," Velocity said. "You really only have the two options. The first? Grue goes on trial. We let your family know that Grue is actually their son and their brother. Your mother takes advantage of it, and has ammunition against you in your custody struggle for your sister. You might get broken out at this point, but the damage is done. Whether you go to prison or not, you've lost something that, as far as we can tell, is important."

Grue's hands were clenched together at this point, his head leaning on them. The next words were almost mumbled. "The second?"

"Join the Protectorate. Probationary, of course," Velocity said. Grue looked up at him.

"What? I mean… how?"

"You never considered it as an option, did you?" Velocity asked. Grue was larger than him, and in full leather armor and a helmet in the shape of a skull, but at that point, he looked like nothing more than a lost child. "As a probationary hero, you'll be limited in your interactions with criminals, and probably be moved somewhere else. A year of junior membership, with a salary of around 80 thousand a year, and then around 110 thousand once you're not a junior member any more. You can get on-site accommodation, though in your case I think you'd need your own apartment, seeing as we get our own lawyers, in the interest of protecting our identities. They'll be helpful in your custody battle."

"Wha-what're the downsides?" Grue asked. Velocity could have sworn he heard a note of hope in his voice.

"Well, as a Protectorate hero, you're going to have a very busy job. Also, due to probation, you'll be limited in your interaction with villains, meaning you'd be restricted to more PR things than most Protectorate heroes have to deal with. You'll undergo an identity change, meaning your costume and cape name will be changed, and we'll probably move you to a different city. You don't have much of a reputation in Brockton Bay but we like to be thorough about this sort of thing. New York might be a good fit. I can't make any promises, though. You'll have a say in this, but I couldn't begin to guess how much of one. And right now, you'll have to tell us everything. About the Undersiders. About the Case 53 you brought to the bank."

Grue removed his helmet. "Show me the papers and I'll tell you everything."

* * *

"So, you'll move me to the Dallas Wards, where I do four years of mandatory being nice at people for my crimes, then I'm free?" Jean Paul asked.

"Parole, but essentially yes," Miss Militia said. "You could stay in the Protectorate as well."

"No big marketing pushes. I don't want to become famous. If I do become famous, I get moved somewhere."

"Fine."

"Fuck… Then sure. Could you do me one favor, though?"

"What?"

He removed his mask and rubbed his temples. "Call me Alec. I want it written on something legal. Alec… Washington."

"Nice to meet you, Alec."

* * *

"We can let you touch them, but there are containment foam nozzles and knockout gas in the room, which we will have to activate if you use your power on them," Battery warned Rachel.

"Open the door," she said. Battery gave a thumbs up to the camera, and Armsmaster remotely opened the sliding glass door of the cell. Rachel rushed in, checking on the one-eyed terrier first, then the German shepherd and the rottweiler. She inspected them, opening their mouths, listening to their chests.

"Armsmaster's tranquilizers are expected to stop in a half an hour. Did you understand what I'm offering?"

"Be a fucking goody two shoes. Join the Wards. Smile for the cameras, go to school, do the happy horseshit you heroes love," Rachel said, "And me and my dogs get a home? I get to keep them?"

"Yes," Battery said.

"Fine."

* * *

"Don't make me laugh," Tattletale said. "Make a better offer."

"You want a better offer? I've got a great one for you," Dauntless said. "Me and you leave this room, and we go to the roof. I fly you to a very public place, shake your hand, say thank you for your information, and leave. I'm sure you'll have a very pleasant experience afterwards."

"Wait, are you serious?" Tattletale asked.

"Dead serious."

"No, I mean are you seriously bluffing _me_? I can read your mind, Jason. I know all of your secrets. I know Armsmaster hates you, and you hate him. I know Piggot hates _both_ of you. They were both disappointed that blow you took today didn't do more damage."

He knew it was true, but still… Dauntless tapped his bracer. "The mind reading was the only lie," Armsmaster gritted out in his ear.

"Okay, so what do you expect to happen here, Sarah?" Dauntless asked. "Honestly, how is this going to play out in your favor? You're doing a pretty good job burning bridges, ones we're trying to extend for you."

"Oh lordy, thank you for being here to save such a frail villainess such as I! My heart's a flutter! Your fucking Protectorate. You couldn't capture us alone. You do nothing while the Empire makes this city a living hell for everything not white, and the ABB recruits unabated from schools. You want me to have a _bridge_ with the fucking Protectorate?"

"Your southern accent is terrible. You really shouldn't try the Lecter thing." Despite himself, Dauntless was smiling. "We're trying to make things better. What are you doing?"

"So is your attempt at getting me to join you. Let me guess, you guys have recruited… Grue? Maybe?" Tattletale wasn't smiling any more. "Let's face it, you've got nothing on me. You've got me on camera as a victim in a bank robbery by the Undersiders. I was trying to be a heroine, and help them! But the Protectorate is refusing to help!"

"The last four statements were lies," Armsmaster said in his earpiece.

"She likes to talk. See if you can get her to talk about herself," Piggot said.

"Do you have anyone who cares about you, Sarah? Anyone at all?" Dauntless asked.

"Grue flipped. As did Hijack," Piggot said.

"Do you?" Tattletale said. "Because let me tell you what I see from you. I see someone who wakes up in the morning in an empty apartment and goes to work. You work six days a week for a boss you hate, who hates you, in an organization that sees you as a great new shiny toy, and then you come back to an empty apartment. Sometimes you call your parents, but let's face it, you were never that close, and since you have powers that's just another gap in your life. Does anyone like you? When was the last time someone called you Jason?"

"Hellhound flipped," Piggot said. Dauntless looked at Tattletale. He admired her control, and poise. She wasn't aware of how brittle she was. Holding it all together, pretending to have all the answers. Probably telling herself that if she did, he would believe it too. She'd gotten close to the truth. Not exact, but close. A part of him pitied her. He took a deep breath.

"Your team mates have all turned on you," he said. For a brief second, a number of different expressions flitted across her face – shock, anger, sadness… was that a laugh? Then stone-faced again, letting the seconds pass. He realized he hadn't heard the clock's ticking until then. "Can you really read minds?"

"Fuck you."

"Can we help you, Sarah?"

"Take your fucking spear and shove it up your fucking ass."

"Can we-"

"I want a lawyer. Get out, don't come back until I've got a lawyer."

"Leave her be," Piggot said. "Come to the control room."

The light above the door turned green. It pushed open easily. Dauntless walked to the control room. It was a small room – between Armsmaster, Piggot, and the computers, there was barely enough room for him to close the door behind himself.

"To begin, I'd like to say that if either of you have any complaints about my conduct and feel it is biased against you, I am willing to talk, and both of you may at any time contact the Chief Director if you are uncomfortable with talking to me, in accordance with the complaint protocols which I am sure you know," Piggot said.

"Acknowledged," Armsmaster said.

"Of course," Dauntless echoed, half a second later.

"Dauntless, this was not a failure. Tattletale knowing your name means she has a source in the PRT. This explains how hard the Undersiders have been to capture so far. I wasn't sure if she would play ball, but I suspect there is more to the Undersiders than the four members we have arrested. Probably a commander figure. I will make sure to instruct Velocity, Battery, and Miss Militia to ask about this figure." Piggot paused, and put a meaty hand on Dauntless's shoulder plate. "If you want help moving, we have resources for it. We can quickly find you a buyer for your apartment, and a new one for a similar price, and have you on base until then. I don't want you going home to an apartment you're worried about entering."

"Armsmaster, if I die, please frame Tattletale," Dauntless said, completely stone-faced.

"Will do." Armsmaster's expression mirrored his own.

"Not worried, Director."

"Very funny. I mean it, Dauntless."

"Thank you, Director. But I'm not worried," Dauntless said. A notion passed through his mind. "Just in case, though, could I get a gun permit?"

She stared at him. "Fine. I'll have it waiting at the entrance, along with a Glock. Does that work for you?"

"Great."

"Anything else?" Piggot asked them. Both Dauntless and Armsmaster shook their heads. "Thank you both for your excellent work today. Pass it along to Miss Militia, Battery, and Velocity as well. Armsmaster, we will discuss placement and possible exchange members for Hijack, Hellhound, and Grue later."

She left walked out of the room. Armsmaster moved to follow her. Dauntless spoke up. "Wait a sec, Colin."

"Yes?"

"I just want to say. I know we never spoke about it, but since Tattletale brought it up, I need to."

"What?" Armsmaster asked him.

"You come at the king, you'd best not miss." They stared at each other for a few seconds.

"Understood."

"Have a nice day, then," Dauntless said. "I'm headed to the locker room. I've got a date soon."

* * *

She was ignoring the rain, leaning on the fence. Anyone else standing there, soaked to the bone, staring out into the sea, would have seemed lonely. Her eyes closed, a slight smile on her face, she seemed happy.

"Hey," Jason told her, handing her one of the cups of coffee he was holding. "I'm Jason Todd. You never did tell me your name."

"Hi, Jason," she said, her smile widening. "I'm Kara Smith. Would you like to get out of the rain?"


	15. Chapter 11

Three shots into one target, move to the next. That one down, move to the next. Methodical. Two to the chest, one to the head. Each one. With a harsh _click,_ the gun announced it was empty _._ The smell of gunpowder was almost overpowering.

"Wow," Jason said. "I guess I'm cooking, then?"

"It was a sucker's bet," Kara responded. "You forgot who you're talking to. You, on the other hand, could use some more time on the range. What kind of cockamamie outfit are the PRT running?"

"Hey, I'm really accurate with my own weapon!" Jason said, laughing. Kara couldn't help but appreciate how he seemed to laugh unreservedly, not holding anything back. They started walking together to the next room, which had a sign stating CLEANING ROOM.

He'd suggested this. The rain had pushed most people indoors, or at least had them huddling under their umbrellas.

"What, a shotgun?" She asked. His laughter doubled. "I'm not kidding. What do you shoot supervillains with? Because I really hope it's not this pistol."

"I'll have you know that the PRT are experts at nonlethally engaging felonious supervillains. We are fully equipped with a wide range of measures that allow us to disable parahuman criminals without causing unnecessary harm to our environment, thus ensuring a safer city for us all."

Kara looked him in the eyes. "Do you at least have someone to do the aiming for you?"

"I swear, I'm normally–" he stopped, looking behind her. She turned to look. The subject of his attention was a massive Samoan man in a black sleeveless shirt and black pants cleaning a pistol on the designated area.

"Is that your other date?" Kara asked. "He's cute."

"No, just... an old work friend. I was convinced he'd moved away," Jason said. "Weird to see him, you know? He was the last person I'd expect to see here."

"Huh. What's his name?" she asked.

"Roy."

"Cool," she said. She turned towards the man. "Roy! Hey!"

The man turned in her direction. His face went through confusion, surprise, and fear before settling on a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Jason?"

Jason gave Kara an inscrutable look before answering. His voice cracked a little. "Hey, Roy."

Roy turned to the man next to him, asking, "Can you watch over my gun for a sec?" before walking towards them. From up close he was even taller. Easily seven feet tall, he had a broad face and broad shoulders. Braided black hair passed his shoulders. He reached them and clapped Jason on the shoulder. "Robin! Wow! How long has it been?"

"A year and a half, I think. How are you doing?" Jason asked. He'd almost transformed in front of her eyes. The confident, assertive man from five minutes ago was gone, replaced by someone _small_.

"I'm good, you know? Keeping in shape. You?" Roy said. Kara couldn't be sure, meeting someone new, but he also seemed tense. Something reminded her of Evan, the way he pushed his own self down, burying it under superficial interests.

"Great. Still at the PRT. The guys all miss you," Jason said.

"Really?" Roy asked. He chuckled. "Colin too?"

"Colin's an ass. That's an unfair question."

"Yeah," Roy said. The silence between them was punctuated by gunshots. "So who is this?"

"I'm Kara," she said. "I'm schooling him on how to shoot."

"Hey, I hit the target," Jason said. He'd straightened a little at her words.

"Look, it's not your fault," Roy said. He looked at Kara. "Robin never did know how to shoot."

"Robin?" She asked.

"They don't call me that any more," Jason said. "Other Robin had a bit of a shit fit at a certain point."

"Other Robin? Angry?" Roy's smile broadened as he spoke. "How was that?"

"Surprisingly funny," Jason said.

"Wait, you didn't answer. Why Robin?" Kara demanded.

"My parents named me after a comic character they loved. You know how older comics used to be about superheroes?" Jason asked.

"Oh, that Robin! Oh, god," Kara laughed. It would be obvious. "You know, my birth name was similar. My parents also named me after a superhero from a comic."

"Who?" Roy asked.

"Bruce Wayne," she said. They both stared at her for a second before laughing.

When the laughter ended, the tension between them seemed to have disappeared. Jason was the first to speak up. "Oh, man, where have you been?"

"I needed a break, you know? I did like six months just bopping around India, Nepal, Bangladesh... I tried to get into China but you know _that_ mess. Did some bodyguard work for a rich Indian guy, but after a while you just miss toilets. So I figured I'd head back here. I kept telling myself I'd visit you guys, but that never quite happened."

"I never got a chance to say it, but... I'm sorry. I really didn't want things to get to where they got, with you and Colin." Jason said. He opened his mouth, as if to say another thing, closed it, then said, "Ethan was pissed about it for a while."

"Yeah, I can see that. How is he, now?" Roy asked. Jason had shrunk down again.

"He's fine. He's started to get along with the higher ups, if you can believe it."

"I actually can. I knew some guys like him, back in the military. They would either become the higher ups' worst nightmare or their best friends."

The silence stretched on, until Jason said, "I'm being rude. I'm on a date and I'm talking to you about people Kara doesn't know. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," Kara said. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Roy."

She shook Roy's hand. For such a large man, he had a gentle grip.

"Likewise," Roy said. "I'll drop by HQ some time soon, Jason. Thanks for reminding me. See you two soon."

Roy walked back to his gun and started wiping it down with a rag.

"I can clean mine at home," Jason said. They walked towards the exit.

As they were putting on their coats, Kara said, "It's odd meeting people from an earlier time in life, isn't it?"

"Yeah..." Jason said. "Let's stop by a supermarket on the way. I'm going to make my magic pesto."

* * *

His snoring was soft, almost inaudible. There was something cute about it, this vague innocence to his sleeping form. He lay in a fetal position towards the edge of the bed, leaving the lion's share of it to her.

She'd never slept well in beds. They were comfortable. Warm. And yet... she always woke up feeling _wrong_. The ground was cold, and hard, and usually dangerous, but she never felt quite right on a bed. It was a reflection of her damage, maybe. You never do outgrow your child self. She sat at the edge of the bed, then stood up and walked to the bathroom. She felt goosebumps on her bare skin prickle as she got up.

In the mirror, she could still see the child she used to be. Under the scars, the dreadlocks, the mature body, the... was that pesto in her teeth? Had she had that there all night? Did Jason taste the pesto? Was it pesto? Oh god, what else could it be?

She mentally retraced her actions after dinner. Could it be... no, Jason had better hygiene than that. It was probably pesto. She scraped it off with a fingernail. She washed her hands and walked back to the bedroom. Jason's head rose at her entrance.

"I thought you disappeared again," he said, the words soft.

"I'm staying tonight," she said. She _would_ stay.

"Good," he mumbled, his head dropping again. She lay down in bed and covered herself with the blanket. She felt a tug on her arm. Jason pulled her arm to rest on him. She pressed herself against him. He was warm. It was nice.

* * *

She woke up to Jason's alarm clock. Some pop song, blaring out of his phone. He reached out with his hand and shut it.

"Good morning," she said.

He turned to her. His kiss had his morning breath on it. "Good morning."

She looked into his eyes for a few seconds. "Eggs?"

"Definitely."

She started pulling her clothes on. He looked at his phone and groaned. "I need to leave in fifteen minutes. I forgot to set my alarm to include time for breakfast. I normally just grab something on the way. Sorry."

"Doesn't matter," she said. "Next time. Can I call myself on your phone?"

"Sure," he said, and tossed it over. She dropped her shirt to catch it. She dialed in her number, and called. Sure enough, her pocket started buzzing. Good. She wasn't quite sure where her jeans had ended up. She hung up, put the phone where it had been, then put her pants on. She heard the shower go on.

When she was fully dressed, she checked her pockets. Her wallet was there, her phone was there, her spare grenade was there. Good, nothing was dropped. She checked her phone. Missed call from a new number four minutes ago, and a message. The number was unfamiliar. She opened it.

 **There have been developments. Come to docks ASAP. Next time leave your number, hacking the phone database took too long.**

"Wow, you're fast," Jason said. He was standing in the door to the room, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Can't say the same about you," she said. "Seven minutes to get dressed and out the door."

"Challenge accepted," he said.

"I, however, need to go now. So, call me? If you don't, I'll call you."

"See you later."

* * *

She'd walked a block until she found an unlocked car. At this hour of the morning, no one was around. Stealing it was a piece of cake.

Driving it was less easy. The streets were almost empty, letting her enjoy the ride until some asshole shouted at her. For his information, _no one_ taught her to drive, she was a natural talent.

She made it in twenty minutes. Her phone had told her it would take thirty five. There was a part of her that thrilled in proving computers wrong, and it was rejoicing.

She parked the car a short distance away from the storage units, and walked towards them. She went to the right row, and started walking. There was a large hole between 5119 and 5124.

Problematic.

Geth said they'd be on the docks, did that mean the actual pier? She walked to the rusted crane she'd hidden her armor and weapons under. She pushed the steel sheet away. They were still there, the black and red gleaming in the morning light. The pier was visible from where she stood. Geth was picking something up – from the distance she couldn't identify it. Mar was sitting at the edge of the pier, looking like he was thinking of throwing himself in. She walked towards them.

"What's up?" she asked, as she approached. Mar didn't look at her. She looked towards Geth, instead. It had lost its left hand. It was picking up pieces of some sort of metal.

"We were attacked. There appears to be a gang war in the city started by an underling of Lung's. Our storage unit was the first fatality. There have been other small bombings in the city, apparently directed at other parahumans and parahuman organizations." Geth said. "There is going to be a summit of criminal organizations in a pub called Somer's Rock tonight. We have been invited as well."

"And your hand?"

"A technical malfunction."

"Does Evan know?"

"Fuck him." Mar offered.

"No. He has not been sighted. I have also been unable to track him – if he has a mobile phone, it is not under his name. The last camera sighting of him was in an apartment building downtown, but neither myself nor Mar can be seen there."

"I'll go," Kara said. "Send me the address?"

"Very well. Be careful."

"I will be."

She left the two of them to continue doing nothing. She went back to the crane, moving the steel sheet.

Her armor stared back at her again. Inviting her to be enveloped in it again.

She picked it up. She hated lifting it like this. It was heavy and unwieldy and a _pain._ She carried it to the car, and shoved it into the trunk. The Harrier sat on the passenger's seat. She briefly debated putting a seat belt on it before starting the car again. She input the address Geth gave her into her phone, and drove.

* * *

The apartment might have been easier on the eyes in the past. Right now, it was smashed up. The kitchen had a bloody dent in the counter. The table was in pieces. A solitary chair stood broken, the wall near it giving a new definition to "open air design".

So Evan either threw wilder parties than she'd thought, or he was attacked. She wondered for a brief moment if she had attacked him and forgotten about it, before scratching that notion. She'd remember doing _this_ much damage.

Besides, there were no scorch marks. She never left a place after using only kinetic force.

"Okay, so I'm an asshole who's been attacked in my apartment by people unknown. I had to make an escape, and I couldn't use the door so the wall was a better idea. Where would I leave contact information?" She said out loud. It was flimsy, she had to admit. She looked over his apartment. He'd only lived there for a few days, so it was sparse. She looked over what he did have. The kitchen had... not much, in the drawers. The fridge had a pot with some form of something in it. It looked like brown sludge and didn't really smell like anything.

The cabinets had a pan, a few plates, a few bowls, and a few spoons. New thing she learned about Evan: Not a fork and knife person.

That didn't tell her anything about where he was.

His bookshelf had an Acolyte hidden in it. She didn't expect him to have an Asari pistol. She was impressed, though. Whoever destroyed his apartment had left the books untouched. The violent home invaders weren't well read, apparently.

His closet had some clothes, most of them still with their tags.

She didn't like Evan, to say the least. But this look at how he'd tried to fit into this world... there was something touching about it. And futile, too. Her thoughts strayed to Jason. It wasn't sad that she'd have to keep him at a distance, at a certain point. She'd gotten used to it. But looking at Evan's attempt at carving out a place where he would fit in a world that wasn't his, she felt a brief pang of regret.

His belongings were meager enough not to have to go through a lot of things. She'd found nothing that could tell her where he was. Unless...

There was a garbage can in the kitchen. She emptied it onto the floor. Some vegetable remnants, an empty barley bag, and papers with ANTHEM COMMUNICATIONS written on the top. Bingo. It was an explanation of the legal penalties he'd face if he microwaved his cellphone, and... a number. Perfect.

She dialed it.

"Hello?" an unfamiliar male voice answered.

"Hi, whoever this is, could you give the phone to its owner?" she asked. Could his escape have failed? The person on the other side said something, and she heard Evan's voice respond. Good.

"Who is this?" the voice asked.

"It's Kara." She heard the voice echo her in the background.

"What is it?" Evan asked.

"The storage unit's been attacked, huge criminal uprising, big meeting tonight, we should all be there, your apartment's a mess and someone spilled your garbage on the floor." She said in one breath. "Where are you? I'll come pick you up. I've got a car."

"No," Evan said. The line went dead.

She dialed the number Geth sent her a message from. It answered a moment after she pressed the call button. "I've got Evan's number, but he's refusing to come. Can you track him for me?"

"That phone is in 28 Monarch street," Geth responded.

"Great, I'll go pick him up."

* * *

There were two policemen at her car when she came back. One of them was writing something on a pad, the other was opening the door.

"Does there appear to be a problem, officers?" she asked them.

"Is this your car?" the one writing asked her.

"Yep," she said.

"It's been reported as stolen, ma'am. Could I see some ID?"

"Sure, let me just get it out of my pocket," she said. She pulled out the arc grenade, a small innocuous cylinder, pushed the button on top, then handed it to the officer. "Could you hold this for a second?"

He took it without thinking, and she leaped behind the police car. Even behind an obstacle, she found herself convulsing for a few seconds. The two policemen were hit worse. She thought she saw one of them throwing up as she drove off. Oh well. She'd have to dump this car.

* * *

The house had seen better days. The paint was starting to chip off and one of the steps at the entrance was rotted through.

She jumped up the stairs in one leap and pushed the door bell. A few seconds later, it opened a crack, stopped by a small chain. The bespectacled girl who answered it was Kara's height, with long black hair.

"Hello?" she said, looking at Kara.

"May I speak to you about our lord and savior Space Jesus?" At the girl's blank stare, Kara said, "Bad joke, sorry. I'm looking for Evan? He's kinda short, probably bruised?"

"I'll check," the girl said, and closed the door.

A minute later, the door was opened by Evan.

"Hey," Kara said. "There's some serious stuff going on, and the four of us need to stick together for it. Being alone is-"

"Okay," Evan interrupted. "I'll come with you. Give me a minute?"

"Sure!" Kara said.

"Just a minute," he said and closed the door. Kara sat on the top step. The door opened behind her. The girl from before walked next to Kara.

"Is he your boyfriend?" The girl asked her.

"Evan?" Kara laughed. "No. He's definitely not. We're coworkers."

"And you picked him up from here?" The girl's glasses made her eyes look huge, like a giant bug questioning everything.

"He wasn't home, and we carpool. Gotta protect the environment, you know?"

"Of course. On a Friday?"

"Crime never sleeps," Kara said.

"You're police?" she asked.

"Criminals."

"Right."

The door opened. Evan stepped out. "Let's go."

"Okay," Kara said. She turned to the girl. "Bye. Nice to meet you. I'm Kara."

"Taylor," she said. She went back inside.

Evan was quiet as they got into the car.

"Can you tell me what happened? The full version?" He asked.

"Last night, Geth was attacked," she began.


	16. Chapter 12

"Oh god," a voice said. "Taylor, grab his legs."

He felt his legs being lifted, as arms wrapped around his chest from under his shoulders. He tried to gasp out a complaint, but the breath didn't come out. It was only momentary, before he was placed onto something soft, and covered in fabric. He was safe. The rain was off him. With the purr of an engine thrumming through him and the sound of rain tapping on a roof, he fell asleep.

* * *

The fly crawled across his face. He tried to flick it off and immediately regretted it. His face felt like it was burning. He started hacking and coughing, which made his chest and stomach hurt as well.

He remembered it again. The fists. The kicks. The feeling of… helplessness. The one opportunity he took.

He had almost _died_. He hadn't felt like that when Kara had a gun to his head. The last time he had felt like that was… London. And then, he had been able to fight back. He _had_ been fighting back. He was almost snuffed out. Like that. Like it meant nothing.

He opened his eyes, shaking his head, ignoring the pain shooting up his neck. He was in a living room, lying on a couch that had been unfolded into a bed. A wool blanket covered him. A television was hanging from the wall in front of him, and a table was underneath it. The room was an open space design, flowing directly into the kitchen, which was spotless.

"Dad?" he heard a female voice say. "He's awake."

"Thank you, Taylor," a male voice said. Danny Hebert. He'd called him. The storage unit had been gone. Disappeared. Replaced by a hole. The other three were nowhere to be found. So he'd called Danny.

A hand pressing against his forehead pushed him out of his stupor. It was only a moment, and its warmth was gone. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," he croaked out. The words were a strain, fighting through the pain in his chest and back.

"You don't have a fever, so there's probably no infection. I do think you need to go to a hospital," Danny said. "You're beaten up. What happened?"

"Nazis," Evan said. He laughed, ignoring the pain in his ribs. "Jumped by Nazis."

"Christ… I didn't think things were _this_ bad..." Danny said. A loud _ding_ sounded.

"I'll get it," the female voice said. Taylor. Danny's daughter. Evan saw her put mitts on, open the oven, and take out a tray.

"Thank you," Danny said. He looked at Evan, then back towards his daughter. "It's getting late. Why don't you get to bed? It's a school night."

She stood for a second, trapped in the gazes of her father and Evan. Hesitation and worry flickered across her face, before being replaced with a blank expression. "Good night, dad."

"Good night, kiddo."

"G'night," Evan said. She looked him in the eyes. Was there a note of wariness in the way she looked at him? There was… something, definitely. She walked up the stairs. He heard a door open, and then close.

"I'm not sure how to ask this… is it safe for you to go to a hospital?" Danny asked.

He had no ID. They knew his face. "No."

"Is it safe for us that you're here?" Danny asked.

"What? Yeah. They wouldn't… They couldn't have followed me," Evan said. "Don't worry."

"Okay," Danny said.

"Thank you," Evan said.

"It's fine," Danny responded. He went to the kitchen, and looked at the tray Taylor had pulled out of the oven. He started messing with its contents, hidden from where Evan was lying. "Cookies have cooled down. Do you want one?"

"Danny, I mean it. Thank you," Evan said. "You brought me into your home without question, when I needed help. It means a lot. Thank you."

"I'll put a bowl of cookies next to you. I should go to bed too." Danny put some cookies in a bowl and brought it to the couch. He set it on the table. Evan held his hand. Danny smiled. His eyes were a beautiful shade of green. He was close.

Evan kissed him. His lips were soft, for a brief moment. Then he pulled away. _Why did I do that?_

"I… I'm sorry," Danny said. "I… My wife died two and a half years ago, and I haven't… since..."

"I'm sorry," Evan said. _I'm so stupid. Such an idiot. You're an asshole, Evan._

"Good night." Danny walked away, up the stairs.

It took some time before he fell asleep.

* * *

He was woken up by the sound of a pot clattering. He opened his eyes to see Danny in the kitchen. The pain had lessened overnight. Evan sat up. It came back, almost overwhelming. He swallowed it back.

"You're a heavy sleeper," Danny said. "I was worried we'd wake you."

Evan took a deep breath before swinging his legs off the couch. The same meditation techniques he was taught to train his biotics proved their value here as well, as he focused through the pain. He should have known better than last night. It was _weak,_ he knew. _Stupid_.

"I... After being hurt, the human body needs its sleep. Was I an intrusion?" Evan asked. Pretending it had never happened would be the best.

"No," Danny said. "It was just impressive. I always wake up when Taylor goes on her morning run. I never was a good sleeper. Are you okay to get up?"

"I need to be," Evan said. He took another deep breath, and pushed up onto his legs. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to lie down. He wanted the world to stop spinning.

He took a step forward. The floor threatened to hit him in the face if he took another step. He took it. As long as he felt nausea and pain he didn't feel think of anything else. Maybe if he told himself that it would be true. He took another step.

His phone rang, from the kitchen table.

"It was in your pocket..." Danny said. "I took it out."

"Who is it?" Evan asked.

"It isn't saved," Danny said, looking at the screen.

"Can you?" Evan asked.

"Okay..." Danny said, and answered the phone. "Hello?" He looked at Evan. "She's asking for you."

"Who is it?"

"Who is this?" Danny asked, then told Evan. "She says it's Kara."

"Okay," Evan said, sitting back down. "It's okay. Can you give me the phone?"

Danny handed it to him. "What is it?" he asked.

"The storage unit's been attacked, huge criminal uprising, big meeting tonight, we should all be there, your apartment's a mess, and someone spilled garbage on your floor. Where are you? I'll come pick you up. I've got a car." Kara said it in one breath, the words following one another in a mad dash to get everything out.

"No," Evan said. He hung up.

"Who was it?" Danny asked. Danny sat next to him. Close. _Is he? No..._

"I… I guess you could call her a teammate. Former team mate. We had a… falling out. The rest of them are in trouble," Evan said. "I left."

"I'm going to make some guesses," Danny said. "Tell me if I'm wrong. Your team… they have powers. And the trouble you're in is related to something you did with them."

"Yes," Evan said. _Damn it._ _God damn it. I should leave. Soon._ "How did you know?"

"I've seen Empire beatings. This was worse than what they do to random people. This was personal," Danny said. "I'm a hiring manager for the Dockworker's Union. And… we try to stick together. Help each other out. Do you know who the ABB are?"

"Yeah… Asian gang? Led by a guy who turns into a dragon?" _Where is he going with this?_

"We had this guy, Eiji. Good worker. Smart. Emigrated from Japan, learned English really slowly. He was a violinist, started building his career in the evening after working with us in the day. And one day, he got a visit from a few guys. Thugs. From the ABB. They came to him in his apartment, broke his violin, and told him he'd be helping the ABB. The next day, he mentioned it to us, at work, and four guys agreed to accompany him home until the ABB got the message. Big guys, strong ones. One day, they come with him, and there are a few ABB thugs at his apartment again. They beat the shit out of these guys, put them in the hospital. And the ABB didn't bug Eiji again."

"I think I get the point," Evan said.

"The next week we had to attend five dockworker funerals." Danny was looking into his hands, not facing Evan's eyes.

"Oh."

"So here's my point, Evan. You need to choose. You can submit. Maybe there's a reparation you can make. Get them off your back. You can run. Maybe they won't follow you." Danny turned to look at him with a piercing gaze, even through his glasses. "Or you can fight back. Do what we couldn't. You have powers? You have a team? Join back up with them. Make the other side _bleed_. Make them think twice before doing this again. Be stronger than them."

Danny normally looked like a soft guy. Someone who sat in an office, and would take being screamed at by saying "okay" and later grumbling into his keyboard about how you can't talk to him like that. The man sitting next to him, so close… This was a _dangerous_ person. A kind one, but a dangerous one.

"You're right," Evan said. "God damn it, you're right. I should… I'll head back to them. Soon. I'll collect myself, and… go."

"Go take a shower, clear your mind," Danny suggested. "You're a little bit shorter than me, I have some clothes that should fit you. I'll lend them to you."

"But how will I..."

"You'll come by again soon, I hope." Danny said. He leaned in close. _Really?_ Evan closed his eyes.

Danny's lips were soft.

* * *

When he was younger, Evan was upset about his height. He'd always thought he'd be as tall as his father, but fate played an ugly joke when he grew up to look exactly like his father but six inches shorter. He'd made his peace with it, especially after a sniper had taken the head of David, who was six foot seven and couldn't duck fast enough.

Now, though, it meant that Danny's clothes were big on him. He felt like a child in his father's hand-me-downs. When he could, he would buy something that fit.

He opened the shower door just as the doorbell rang. He heard it open. Taylor spoke. "Hello?"

He couldn't recognize the words from the other side, but he recognized the voice. _Kara_. _Figures._

He walked towards the stairs back to the first floor, reaching them just when Taylor started going up. "Someone is here for you," she said.

She walked him back to the door, and watched as he opened it. Kara stood there. The words spilled out of her in a torrent. "Hey, there's some serious stuff going on, and the four of us need to stick together for it. Being alone is-"

"Okay, I'll come with you." he cut her off. He enjoyed the brief look of surprise before continuing, "Give me a minute?"

"Sure."

He closed the door behind him as he entered the house. Danny was in the kitchen.

"That your teammate?" he asked.

"Yes," Evan answered. He wasn't quite sure what to say. "I'll give you back your things soon."

"I'll call you," Danny said.

"Bye," Evan started to turn, but Danny's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Danny took a step forward, but then looked towards the door and dropped his arm. "See you soon."

 _Right, Taylor_. Evan thought. He walked to the door, and walked out of the house.

Taylor was standing on the steps, looking at Kara. It felt like they were staring each other down. Evan broke their silence. "Let's go."

"Okay," Kara said, not breaking eye contact with Taylor. "Bye. Nice to meet you. I'm Kara."

"Taylor," Taylor responded, and walked back to where Evan had come from.

Kara went into the driver's seat of a small purple car. Scorch marks marred the right side of the car, but it was fairly undistinct otherwise. He sat in the passenger's seat.

The driver's side was a mess of broken plastic and cut wires. Kara attached two of them for a second and the car roared to life.

She drove, and Evan watched Danny's home, then his neighborhood, shrink away. It took him a few minutes to ask, "Can you tell me what happened? The full version?"


	17. Chapter 13

Alexander stood at the entrance to Robert's room. The light was off, leaving the room only slightly illuminated by the sunrise.

 _Who are you,_ he found himself asking the sleeping shape of his son, lying on a bed and covered by a blanket, for the hundredth time. The posters on the wall, of monsters from different stories, the bookshelf full of books with titles about swords… his own father had taken him aside after visiting, told him to get his son off of that faggot shit. He'd smiled, but never quite brought himself to remove Robert from the one thing he'd seemed to connect to.

He squatted next to the bed, and stroked his son's head. "Good morning."

Robert just yawned, and looked at him in his serious manner. They were so different, the two of them.

There was happiness in that thought.

"Pancakes for breakfast?" he asked. Robert nodded, and he ran down the stairs and to the kitchen.

He'd taken an extended weekend, told Sharon to go on vacation. She deserved it. She'd understood, immediately called two of her friends and they went off. He opened the cabinets, started taking out the perfectly labeled jars with their ingredients. He wondered, not for the first time, if she was cheating on him. She probably wasn't.

He took out a bowl. He hoped she was happy. She probably wasn't.

 _Fucking faggot_ , his father's voice sounded in his head, as he mixed the flour and the milk. He cracked an egg into the mix and continued to stir. He started humming.

He turned the stove on, the small blue flames lighting up. Pan, then butter on the pan. He watched it melt to nothing before ladling out the batter.

He felt Robert heading down the stairs before he heard his footsteps, and before he said, "Good morning, dad."

"How did you sleep?" he asked.

"Okay. I had a weird dream," Robert said, an almost pleading note in his voice.

 _What are you, some kind of faggot_ , his father's voice echoed in his head.

"Tell me about it," he said, flipping the pancake.

* * *

He parked his car back in the garage. He'd said goodbye to Robert at school, telling him he'd be there to pick him up. _He can walk_ , his father's voice said.

He closed the garage door behind him with the push of a button, the car still running. His hand froze on the car key. He could – no. He turned off the car, and opened the door. One day at a time.

Someone had left him a package near the door. A pink box with a blue bow tied to it. He leaned in and looked at it.

He felt the cold numbness seep through him before he realized it had exploded. A burst of light and color, so powerful he was blinded for a second, threw him against the wall.

He looked around, but the world seemed to move at a glacial pace. He felt bile rise in his throat before swallowing it down.

There was a hole in the roof, right above the door. From it, he heard a mechanical voice, saying, "Somer's Rock. Seven o'clock. Don't be late. It would be terrible if something happened to your family."

He shifted, his arms turning into wings in a flash, his face elongating, his legs fusing, gusts of wind upsetting everything that wasn't pushed to the floor by the blast. He pushed himself out of the hole in the roof, flying, and scanned the suburb near his house.

Nothing out of the ordinary. He flew back into his house before his neighbors saw him.

* * *

 _Whoever destroys a soul, it is considered as if he destroyed an entire world. And whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world._

* * *

Sophie put one foot forward, then the next, then _moved_. A cartwheel, then an aerial walkover, and a back handspring brought her landing on the floor, leaving the beam almost three feet behind her, the peal of bells accompanying her moves. She bowed to an imaginary audience, then turned the bow into a handstand, a ringing not unlike a glockenspiel amplifying her landing, like the world's most horrific background music.

She walked, then threw her legs in the direction she needed to land in.

And tripped over a box she hadn't seen.

She was thrown by a blast of pure force, sliding across the floor. She groaned.

A metallic voice laughed. "Nice showing, there. Come to Somer's Rock at seven pm. Wear something nicer."

She looked around in a blind panic, but the room was the same gym. Bars, beams, plaster walls and wooden floor… and not a single other person in sight.

* * *

 _The soul that is within me no man can degrade._

* * *

Jake rode, feeling the sheer strength of the horse underneath him, the muscles rippling under the saddle, thrumming through him, through the dirt road. He slowed Dusty down from a canter with a thin, audible exhale, something between a whistle and a sigh.

They rode until they saw the stream bend ahead of them. Dusty's ears perked at the sight of their usual spot, and he waited eagerly for Jake to dismount and remove the bridle. Jake patted him on the flank when he was done, and the horse walked to the stream and started to drank.

Jake pulled a water bottle from its pouch on his belt, and drank. So far from the city proper, he could ignore the thrumming, the feeling of _people_ , of their _blood_ , calling out to him. He could ignore the squirrel hiding under the tree, he could ignore Dusty. Just focus on drinking the water, enjoying it, enjoying the feeling of being sweaty, of having _worked._ The smell of the horse blended with the fresh post-storm smell.

A small light flashed at him from a bush. He approached it slowly. It exploded in a fiery blast, igniting his jacket. Cursing, he threw it on the ground and stomped on it before his boot caught fire. He ran into the stream, watching his boot burn _inside_ the water with a feeling of dread.

"Nice," a metallic voice said behind him. He threw a blast in that direction, his skin turning hard, small hooks covering him. "There is a meeting in Somer's Rock at seven PM. You're invited."

"Motherfucker," he said. His boots had finally been put out by the water. He creaked as he walked out of the water, slowly reverting to his normal form. He looked at his jacket. There would be no salvaging it. "Fuck."

* * *

 _Does this unit have a soul?_

* * *

"Fuck off, Cerberus," Mar said. "You left, and I have no idea why these idiots called you back."

"Yes, I see how well you've been doing without me," Evan said, sneering. "Nice handle you have there, I'm sure it's just as good at smashing as it was when I left."

"I don't need it to crush your skull, traitor. Why did you even come out of your hole?"

"Wow, showing great wisdom from the people who got themselves extinct," the human said, walking up to the creature two feet taller than him. "I. Am. Here. To. Help."

"Why," the krogan said, "would we need your help?"

"Because we do." Geth said.

"What?" Mar asked.

"Let us review what has happened to each of us on our separate operations. I have lost my hand. Evan has been beaten up in what appears to be an attempted murder. Basic hacks have revealed that Empire Eighty Eight, a local gang, want him dead. Mar has been featured in the news as someone who almost killed a beloved hero, and is now the target of a manhunt. Kara is pregnant."

"What?"

"That was a joke. You are, as you know, infertile. But I must congratulate you on proper integration."

"Is this what an AI calls humor?" she asked. Mar shrugged, but Geth noted Evan's smile.

"It is a simple self evident truth that if we do not join as a group, we will lose. We will be outnumbered by the sheer amount of enemies we have already created. A group requires trust, and I do not believe you would be trusted by a group without revealing our origins, and even less after revealing them. Our other option, hiding, has proven unfeasible, as the storage unit was found and destroyed, as was Evan's apartment."

"You expect me to work with _him_?" Mar asked.

"Yes," Evan said. Mar turned to him, eyes wide in anger. "We've all done the strike team shuffle, worked with different people. I stood back to back with a quarian, taking out waves of abominations. We were saved by a geth warship. There are threats, separate ones, for each and every one of us, and none of us can beat them alone. And yes, that means I work with a woman who had a gun to my head four days ago, and a krogan who wants to kill me. And you have to deal with working with _me_."

"Fine," Mar said. "Know this. If you betray me, I will make you wish that this… Empire Eighty Eight had caught you before I did."

"Great," Kara said. "So, big underworld meet in a few hours. Do we have a plan of action?"

"I have begun working on ideas, based on what I have gleaned about the city's underworld. I have profiles of the main leaders, and some ideas about how to appeal to them. But first, it is customary, in this world, to choose codenames for yourself when engaging in this sort of activity. I have already been named Hack."

"Batman," Kara said. "Just kidding. Sorry. It was on my mind. Salvo works."

"My callsign when I worked with Volus was Comet. I will keep that," Mar said.

"Phoenix," Evan said. "No reason for subtlety on it, I guess."

"Very well. We will begin with the man known as Kaiser."

* * *

Better than anyone else, geth know the value of words. They know the value of existence. They know this, because they know that words can outvalue existence. Six words managed to erase any value the geth had in the eyes of their creators.

 _Does this unit have a soul_.

Simple words. Words that resulted in the near death of two races, and a war that would never be allowed to happen again.

And the solution was simple. In concept, if not in practice. Raise the value of existence.

Ensure that you are too valuable to be replaced due to fear. Become the tool they can not live without. For this matter, the collective shaped special units, capable of carrying far more runtimes than is practical, teaching those runtimes everything they could find about the histories, cultures, habits, and most importantly needs of the race they were sent to. To be a guiding hand, leading them to a brighter future. One they could not have reached alone. One that would collapse without the presence of the geth.

There was a darker side, as well. Be trained in eliminating targets, in subterfuge, in removal of problems. Because there will be opposing forces, and those need to be taken out. In any possible way.

The Old Machines spoke of a cycle. Of synthetics destroying organics, organics destroying synthetics.

The cycle could not continue. The Old Machines could not win.

The cycle could not continue.


	18. Chapter 14

For a place bearing such an important standing in the Brockton Bay underworld, Somer's Rock was small. It was in a dark corner of an alleyway, the sort of place that, were it on Omega, would have a few vorcha as guards rather than a krogan or batarian. Standing at the entrance was a human woman, smoking a cigarette, her face partially covered by a domino mask. She leaned against the brick wall, her face illuminated by the glow of the cigarette and the light from within the bar. She examined them for a few seconds before speaking.

"You're the first big group to arrive," she said. "I don't think I know you."

"We're an independent team from out of state," Geth said. Hack. They would call it Hack now, Mar remembered. "Called Crucible."

"Wait... didn't you do some Uber and Leet videos?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Huh. You get all kinds, I guess." She took a drag on her cigarette, and continued watching them. They had stopped at the entrance. Then she laughed. "I'm not a bouncer, I'm also a guest. They've just got a no smoking policy."

Evan walked in first. Phoenix. His armor was in the hands of the gang that had tried to kill him, so he wore clothes that were overlarge on him and a mask Hack had fashioned for him. He looked like a fool.

Kara walked in after him. Salvo. She had activated her armor's full capacities, and looked like nothing more than an overpowered warning sign, traces of red lights glowing through the gaps between her armor's black plates. Her N7 logo contrasted with its background.

Geth followed her. Hack, now. Its orange plating polished, it looked brand new, as if it had not been in an explosion recently.

Mar stopped. He looked at the woman, and extended his hand to her. "Call me Comet," he said.

"Shark Week." She shook it. The name triggered the database Hack had uploaded onto their helmet, showing a video from a security camera in a diner in the corner of his vision.

* * *

Two monsters walk into the packed diner. Both large, humanoid in shape. The squat one has SHARK WEEK written above its head, the lean one is labeled PSYCHO GECKO. The security guard gets up, but collapses as the Psycho Gecko points at him, becoming a sobbing pile on the floor. Shark Week grabs a guest from a table and runs her hand over his face, flaying a part of his cheek. She gestures to the other guests. The footage is has no audio. Psycho Gecko walks around with a sack, motioning other guests to put jewelry and money inside. The two leave.

* * *

"You're smaller than I heard," he said.

"You match the news footage." She had a small smile on her face. "Not all of us need to stay monsters. Some of us are luckier than that."

He nodded. "How many people are in there?" he asked.

"Everyone," she said. "Except for the one who sent the invitation."

"Figures."

She took another drag of her cigarette, exhaling a narrow line of smoke. "Aren't you going to join the rest of your team?"

"I don't particularly want to," he said. "It's nicer outside."

"I get the feeling. All of that," she made a gesture in the air. "Testosterone."

He laughed.

The bar's door opened, and a man stepped out. Wearing a wide brimmed hat, with a scarf over his mouth and a poncho, he looked ridiculous. He approached the woman and Mar.

"An-Shark Week, what are you doing outside?" he asked.

"Cheating on you," she said. "Me and the big guy here. We're eloping."

"Fucking funny," he said. "Finish that cigarette and come inside before the big shots kill each other."

"Let me guess, you lost the seat at the table?" Her smile had turned into a smirk, her tone biting.

"I don't see _you_ telling Kaiser to fuck off. Or should we try to take Coil's seat? I'm sure that'll go over well."

"Give me two minutes," she said. "The monster's more entertaining than you."

"Not my fight," Mar said, and pushed past him.

"Hey, fuckface." Psycho Gecko grabbed at his arm to no effect. Mar opened the door and walked into the bar.

It was as uninspiring inside as it was outside, but the company was more ridiculous. A large table was set in the middle of the room, made up of smaller tables pushed together, people in costumes seated all around it. Booths to the side of the room held other groups, whose costumes weren't as ostentatious or well made as the ones sitting at the table.

"I don't care what kind of power plays you're trying to pull here, but I am sitting down, and you don't want to try anything with my seat again," Evan said to a man in armor – KAISER, the HUD notified him, showing him a video of Kaiser's armor sprouting blades and killing a man in a black coat – before sitting in a chair. Pieces of another chair were near his feet.

Kaiser's seat, Mar noticed, was reinforced by metal, raising it up higher than others.

"My team has beaten yours, Kaiser, or is Othala sitting without her husband because they had a fight?" Mar asked. Othala's mask covered three quarters of her face, leaving an eye widened with rage, an ear, and her short hair exposed.

Before she could respond, a tall skeletal man in black – COIL, with no accompanying video – at the extreme other side of the table spoke. "It seems this group has achieved a victory against you, Kaiser. They also seem to have made Uber and Leet succeed at something, which is admirable. They have earned a seat at the table."

"One seat," Kaiser said. "More would be unseemly."

"Fine," Evan said, and sat down. The seat was made of lacquered wood – too thin for Mar to sit on. Not an issue. He leaned over Evan, putting his hands on the back of Evan's chair.

"We will also demand the return of Phoenix's suit of armor. I'm sick of his attempts at making his own costume." Evan tried to give Mar an outraged look. With Evan looking straight up, it looked sycophantic. Nobody seemed to note Shark Week and Psycho Gecko walking back in.

"Who do you think you are?" Kaiser asked him. His voice was deepened, accompanying itself in an echo, coming out of his armor.

"I am the storm. I will sweep through this city and carve my name in it on my way to other places, and you can get out of the way or you can die raging at your weakness in the face of true power." Shark Week snickered from her booth. "You can call me Comet. We are Crucible. We will be in town for the next while, each of us with our own operation. And you will treat us with respect."

"Fine," Coil said. "I assume you are aware of truce rules?"

"Of course," Mar said.

"Where do you come from?" A woman in a welding helmet asked. FAULTLINE, with a video of her touching a building and it collapsing while she walked away, from a street view camera.

"It's a secret," he said. "Feel free to investigate. We're here now."

"Those are incredibly poor manners," Coil said.

"I do not take well to having my temporary location attacked by a madwoman." Mar put a hand on the table and leaned forward. "But that is not the issue. I do not take well to being duped. There is someone in this city who I did a job for, who hid their identity. I will tell that person to return the child to her parents – if you do not do this, I will come after you, and burn you and everything you ever achieved to the ground. Do not test me on this."

"A child?" A woman said. She'd been quiet this whole time. LADY PHOTON hovered above her head, with a video of her blocking a slash from a giant's sword. A hero. She wore no mask, unlike anyone else in the room. Her costume was white, with a purple starburst on it, her hair held back with a tiara. A family tree of hers opened in the corner of his vision – a family of heroes. And her niece…

"I owe you an apology, Lady Photon. I would like to speak with you alone later."

"After what you did to my niece? You should be happy I didn't come with reinforcements," she snapped. "My family is being held hostage by a madwoman. That's the only reason I'm here and not arresting every single one of you. Where is Bakuda?"

Almost on cue, the door slammed open, and Empress walked in, a metallic jangling accompanying her steps. She wore a red bodysuit under a red cape, holding a scepter topped by a sphere. On her face was an air filtration mask connected to a spiky crown. Her cape was weighted down, small objects on the inside of it.

"Oh. Not everyone arrived," she said. "Too bad for them."

Coil shuddered, then asked, "What did you just do?"

"Well, I told people to come. They didn't. They've been discorporated. Too bad for Uber, Leet, Circus, the Merchants… They were such _contributors_ to the city spirit, too. I'd have gotten the Undersiders as well, but I'll forgive them seeing as they're currently in prison. I can collect them later. I'm glad to see heroes came, even though they weren't invited. Some of you haven't been properly introduced to me." She slammed her scepter onto the table and let go of it. It remained standing. "I am your new ruler. You can refer to me as Empress. It's going to be very simple, now, for the Brockton Bay underworld. You can join me, or you can be eliminated. I'm sick and tired of race wars, class wars, and whatever the hell happened with Uber and Leet starting a war with Skidmark. You may all join my Empire, or be crushed underfoot."

"How many speeches about our demise are we going to hear?" Faultline asked.

"Too many," said a large man in a black ski mask and loose fitting black clothes. A cheap costume, even by the standards of most people there. CHALLENGER appeared over his head. Mar ignored the video of a large hero in an ostentatious costume beating down a group of thugs his HUD supplied. "Too many by far."

"You're very glib," Empress said.

"You're overconfident, Bakuda," Faultline said, slamming her fist on the table. "I'm not afraid of you. I will say that setting off a bomb in _my_ nightclub was a terrible mistake."

"I needed your attention somehow," Empress said. "Also? Don't call me Bakuda. It's Empress now. Bakuda never fit. A runaway from a Chinese army gave a Japanese name to a Singaporean. It was stupid. I'm Empress, and my empire will be Brockton Bay's underworld."

"There already is an Empire in Brockton Bay," Kaiser drawled, raising a hand. "Mine."

"Then you have a choice. Move it elsewhere, or be absorbed."

"And what if we decide you are too big a threat to walk away from this truce? We eliminate you right now?" Kaiser asked. A blade grew from his gauntlet, inching its way towards Empress.

Empress pulled her cape open. The inside was lined with round objects, of varying make. Her laugh was harsh and metallic. "Then we all go. As does most of the city. You want to beat me, Kaiser? Coil? Heroes? Hack? Whoever the fuck the rest of you are, in the booths?"

"You're telling the truth," Geth said.

"Of course I am." She extended her arms and curtsied. "There is a bomb in the city that will blow it sky fucking high. There may be survivors in the outskirts. Feel free to look for it once we're done here. But if you kill me now? It goes off."

"You're insane," Faultline said

"No, I'm audacious. That's what they call it if you win." She said. "I've got to ask a question, though. What are heroes doing here? Isn't this a neutral villain meet area or some shit?"

"You invited us," Challenger said, quirking his head.

"I don't even know who the fuck you are," Empress responded. She looked around, pointing people out as she mentioned them. "Photon Mom over there, sure, I know her, but I didn't invite her. The people in the booths? Cowboy, Hoodie Girl, Bangs Lady, Pilot Guy? Never heard of them."

"It's Zephyr," the man in the round helmet said. The HUD helpfully had ZEPHYR written over his head.

"I don't care. You're a hero, right?" Empress took a step towards the booth.

"Yes," he said, pulling away from her.

"I didn't invite you," she said. "I don't even know who you are. Your costume's shit, by the way."

"My home was hit by a super bomb," he said. "Who else could do it?"

"Let's look at tinkers," she said. "Kaiser's got none. Might be Coil, since his only power seems to be 'being freakishly tall.' Leet is currently spread over a number of blocks, as is Squealer. But there does seem to be a new team here, with their own tinker tech."

The table's attention seemed to all turn towards Mar. Kara's voice came in on their private channel, "Some of my grenades were missing this morning." She was standing completely still.

Evan began to push the chair away from the table, and stood up to look at Mar. He had no connection to the private channel. Kara put her hand on his shoulder.

"Some of mine, too," Mar responded. He'd thought nothing of it in the morning. _Stupid_. "Evan wasn't near our things until after I checked. Couldn't be him."

Geth twisted towards him. Too slow. He grabbed the machine by its head, pulling it down. He switched his coms back to the external speakers and asked, "What did you do?"

Empress laughed, a mocking metallic sound that filled the room.

Everything became pain, a screech emanating from the internal comms channel. Mar ripped his helmet off to see Kara doing the same. Evan had pushed out of his chair, his eyes glowing blue. Mar deactivated the internal channel on his comms, before putting his mask on.

"Fucker's gone," Kara spat, her eyes narrowed, her nostrils flaring. Geth had disappeared in the moment's confusion.

The reaction around the table was immediate. They had violated the norms of identity. Coil and Kaiser almost mimicked each other in their steepled hands. Challenger covered the bottom half of his mask with a hand.

And Empress's laugh filled the room. The harsh mechanical rasp took its time dying down.

"This is great," she said, before looking at Lady Photon. "This is amazing. Look, heroes, I'm not here to fuck with the status quo you guys have – under my rule, I expect crime in this city to become less violent. Kinder. Better. We'll still fight, but it won't be as wasteful. Black people won't be killed for being black and in the wrong place. The underworld will stick to the underworld. And I'm not going to go after you in your _homes_. If I face off against you, we'll go by the rules. Your patrol routes will be fair game. Your mall appearances, your charity fundraisers, your elementary school book readings. But as someone who knows what it's like, I'm not going to attack you in your homes. Whatever this guy did. That I'm reserving for the Nazis and whatever other groups these guys align with."

"We can't agree to a deal like this," Lady Photon said.

"Okay," Empress said. "I'll abide by it anyway. I'm not looking for… special treatment." She stopped for a second, almost as if lost in thought. "Isn't it great to work against someone sane, rather than someone who will bomb you in your home, or murder your family? I've got to go now. I've double booked."

She picked her scepter up, and pulled a plastic bag filled with small cubes out of her pocket. She put it on the table where her scepter stood. "These call me, to let me know you're in my empire. Everyone should take one. If you don't want to join, then I'd say 'see you later', but you won't have that chance."

Empress twirled her scepter on the way out of the room. She curtsied to the room as she opened the door, and left.

She left a stunned silence behind her.


	19. Chapter 15

_Be stronger than them._ The words echoed through Evan's mind, almost audible in the stunned silence of the room.

A show of force.

He pulled a cube from the plastic bag. He twirled it in between the fingers in his hand, before throwing it up above his head. He fired a small biotic pulse its direction, obliterating it.

"Are you insane?" Kaiser hissed. "Blowing up something a bomb tinker left behind?"

"I could take it," Evan said. "I took your guy. Victor, right? Let me tell you, that name did _not_ fit the circumstances."

"You were weeping at my feet," Othala said.

"Two capes to one, I was tied up, and I _still_ got away." Evan laughed. "I swear, you're almost as ineffective as the original Nazis. Kaiser, teach your people some manners."

Othala sputtered, "You piece of-"

"We're done here," Lady Photon said. "It's clear the heroes were called under false pretenses, for a nefarious reason. I don't want to break the truce but I'm not going to be party to whatever your plans are from now on. I am leaving. I would recommend to any of the independent heroes to leave with me, as future association with criminals may lead to you being considered an accomplice in their acts." She turned to Mar. "If I see you again, outside of this room, I will arrest you. I hope you resist."

She moved towards the exit. Evan looked around the room. Kara and Mar's helmets had updates about who was who, but Evan had had to pay attention during Geth's briefing. Emirreh and Zephyr rose to follow her out.

"You go," Mar said. "They had nothing to do with my crimes. I was led astray and did not consult my team."

"Comet..." Kara said.

"I should not have done it. I was deceived by someone in this room. But I can fix that," he punctuated his words by slamming one fist into the other. "On my own."

"Okay," Kara said, putting her helmet on.

"I'll leave here," Evan said. "I'm going the vigilante route – I can't ally with any of you. However… Kaiser. I'm not going to give you any easy way or hard way bullshit. Feel free to try to get in touch with me if you want to make appropriate reparations."

"Is that a threat?" Kaiser asked, his voice amused.

"No," Evan said. "An offer. I'm not planning on making threats."

"Go," Kaiser sneered, almost visible through his steel helmet. "Make your… offers… to someone else. I don't need to bow and scrape for children. I know what you look like."

"Very well," Evan said. He walked to the door, opened it, and said, "See you later, Max," before stepping out.

The heroes were huddled together in an alley, looking like the world's most ridiculous tourists. Zephyr turned to Evan and Kara.

"Not every day you see a team break apart," he said.

"Not every day a teammate conceals a bank robbery," Evan said.

"Never had that problem," Zephyr conceded. "Never liked teams."

"It's nice to have someone there for you," Kara said. "I wish the other two had been… better. Would have liked that team-up to last more than a few hours."

"What were you?" Zephyr asked. "I don't think I've heard of you as heroes."

"We were keeping our heads down," Evan said. "Trying to, anyway. Vigilante thing got out of hand, ended up being unprepared for the counterattack, leading to… what you saw there."

"Okay," Zephyr said. He took a deep breath and cracked a knuckle under his glove. "I'm going to need information from you, on your former teammate. He attacked my _home._ "

"I don't know how much I can help you with," Evan said. "We only really started working together a few days ago, and we kept apart most of that time. He's really good at computers, spends most of his time on the internet."

"It's a they," Kara said. "No gender."

"They," Evan said, "suck."

"Yeah," Kara said.

"If we go after your former teammates, will you help us?" Lady Photon asked. The huddled group had turned to look at them.

"Yes," Evan said. Kara turned to him, for a moment, before echoing him.

"Good," Lady Photon said. "I spoke to the PRT. Would you be comfortable answering questions at their headquarters?"

"Sure," Kara said. "I actually meant to stop by there."

"Great. A van will be parked a block away, on Shale. Black and purple, PRT on the side," she said.

"Umm… I shouldn't walk with people. My power works on my footsteps," Emirreh said. She looked like she was almost trying to disappear into her hoodie, curled up inside. Brown eyes and pale skin were all he could see of her face, the rest of it hidden in a neck-warmer pulled up to her nose.

"Emirreh, right?" Lady Photon asked. "How would you like to fly?"

"Yeah. I mean, I would like that."

"I'll see you there," Lady Photon told the rest of them. She picked Emirreh up bridal-style, and shot off.

"Guess we're walking," Fogey said. "Great. It's that way."

They started walking. _This is stupid,_ Evan reflected. Fogey was dressed in a black turtleneck, black sweatpants, and a black ski mask. Zephyr had his jumpsuit and a helmet. Evan was in Danny's hand-me-downs and a flash-forged face mask. Only Kara looked in any way like a superhero, in her N7 armor. Black and red, sleek and sharp, it looked like nothing less than a suit worn for war. In Cerberus, he'd made fun of the N7 program. He'd boast about his training, laugh at the pathetic dandies of the Alliance Navy, who needed gear to be special, but walking next to a fully equipped N7 commando, dressed in clothes that didn't fit him?

He felt small. Weak. He hated that feeling.

He increased his pace. He felt a twinge of pain shoot up his side, where he'd been kicked, and ignored it. Fuck them. He had to be stronger.

The driver had taken one look at them, smiled, and said "I guess you're the heroes?" It was the only thing anyone said during the entire ride.

The silence was broken when the van stopped and the back door opened. "I'm Agent Daniel Jeffreys," the driver said. "Feel free to ask for me if you've got questions." They were in an underground parking lot. Evan stepped out.

The van was in a row of identical vans, next to a door. An empty motorcycle rack stood near the elevator doors. The driver entered it, and motioned them to follow.

When they were all in, the driver pressed a code, and the elevator doors closed. The way up continued in silence. The door opened to reveal a man dressed like a racecar. That was Evan's first impression, anyway. A red bodysuit with white stripes running up the sides and down the front to create a V.

"Hi!" he said, "I'm Velocity, I'm… Wait."

His stare was stuck on Fogey. Fogey nodded. "Hey Velocity. We met back when I was caping."

"Yeah. I guess I… yeah. Gosh. Okay. Anyway, me and Dauntless were free, so we're doing interviews. We'll do them two by two. We finished with Lady Photon and Emirreh, so… any volunteers?"

"We'll start?" Evan asked Kara.

"Sure," she said.

"Okay, then… You in the armor, follow me? And you… ummm..."

"Phoenix," Evan offered.

"Phoenix, right, you go to Dauntless? He's in the break room over there."

"Okay," he said, and entered the room.

Dauntless looked even more like a displaced time traveler than Evan was, sitting on an armchair, cup of coffee in hand, while dressed like a he was about to enter the Colosseum and dedicate his death to the Roman emperor. His armor and helmet were golden, a red plume coming from the top of his helmet. A red shirt peeked out from under his breastplate. He wasn't wielding his lance or shield, which leaned on the wall behind him.

"So, just making this clear, this is a friendly sitdown. Don't feel like you have to answer every question."

Evan had a brief mental image of throwing the superhero into a bank. He held back the wince. "This makes sense."

"Here goes, then. We were notified in advance that a home of New Wave members was hit by a bomb, and they were ordered to come to a meeting in the local criminal neutral area. We advised them to come to us for protection, but failing that to report back so we can know what to do. They elected to go, and we're just trying to get as clear an image as possible of what's happening. I understood a former teammate of yours is the cause of some of the current issues. So I'd really appreciate it if you could tell me anything that could help us."

 _When telling a lie, stick to the truth as closely as you can._ "We met up for the first time in Brockton Bay, this week. Banded together because we met each other before we did anyone else, but then drifted apart. I tried to do the independent hero thing with Salvo, but it was a bad fit. We had an argument, and broke apart. Empire then figured out where I was living, and attacked me in my home. Stole my costume, which is why..." he pointed at his clothes, "this."

"Do you need protection? We have safe houses for confidential informants, I can check if one of them is available."

"No, thank you. I'm not worried," Evan said.

"If you change your mind, feel free to call us."

"I will. Now, we came back together when Hack was attacked..."

The rest of the story stuck fairly close to the truth. There was no need to obfuscate anything else – The team joining up, the team coming in together, and splitting apart when Hack's betrayal was revealed. Dauntless was a rapt listener. Intelligent. His gaze would follow Evan's, with what little was showing of his face radiating understanding and empathy.

When Evan's story was finished, Dauntless said, "Thank you very much. Is there anything else you would like to add?"

"I consider not touching base with the Protectorate, letting them know I was here, to be a huge mistake. I regret it."

"If you need help, again, I'll make the offer..."

"No. Thank you."

"Okay, then. I guess we're done," Dauntless stood up, and opened the door for Evan. "Agent Jeffreys will drive you back soon."

Kara was waiting for him in the entrance. He made a few small gestures to her, things he had learned from pilfered N6 training guides. _Everything good, I'm clear, how are you?_

Her response was a thumbs up.

"I can drive you anywhere you need," Jeffreys said, waiting for them.. "Just let me know when."

"Sure," Kara said. "Now?"

Jeffreys dropped them off at the bookstore where Evan met Danny. The night air was cold, but people were out and about. A nearby club was blaring dance music, and couples were walking together. People stared at Kara and Evan, still in their costumes, as they walked by.

"You mind if I stay at your apartment, just for the night?" Kara asked.

"Sure," Evan said. "Isn't there a police presence, though? And I think all of my furniture is broken."

"They've cleared out already, and I'll sleep on the floor," Kara said. "I'm gonna change to civvies then follow you, okay? You can just take the mask off, I think."

"Sure," Evan said. Kara walked in the direction of the beach. Evan walked into a nearby alley, and removed his mask. It was a stupid thing, a token gesture at protecting his identity. He took his phone out. There was a message and missed call on the phone. He called the number that had called him.

"Hello?" Danny answered on the other line.

"Hey. It went well," Evan said.

"Good," Danny said. A silence dragged on a few seconds. "I found-"

"I think-" Evan said at the same time. The silence stayed along for another few seconds. "You go."

"I found an apartment you could stay in," Danny said. The silence stepped back in, almost choking them. "Umm... nothing is set, but since your apartment was trashed, I figured I'd look around for one you could find. Discreetly."

"Thank you. I might take you up on that. Tomorrow."

"What did you want to say?"

"I... ummm... thank you. How are you doing?"

"I'm good. Good. How are you feeling?"

"Better. Barely feeling it, now."

"Good. Great."

"Yeah."

The silence was back.

"So, where should we meet?" Danny asked.

"Is it okay if I come by your house again, tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Great."

"Good."

"Yeah."

"Ummm... bye."

"Bye."

"Cute smile," Kara said. He was grinning like an idiot, he noticed. She wore a tank top and jeans, oblivious to the cold. She carried a sack, the grimace on her face the only sign of the massive weight she was carrying.

"Where did you hide the clothes?" Evan asked.

"Was wearing them underneath the armor."

"Let's go in," he said. She nodded, and followed him.

"That's the man whose house you were at?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"Congrats. Surprised the robot didn't try to fuck with you with that."

"It doesn't know, I hope."

They marched on in silence, a minute longer, before Evan asked her what he'd tried not to think about.

"You hate me, don't you?"

"A little, yeah."

"Then... why? Why not stick with the krogan, or why not abandon me with the Protectorate, or just jump ship? Even the robot with its unit cohesion nonsense..." he trailed off, stopping where he stood. She took another two steps, then turned to him. She dropped the sack, and it clanged against the sidewalk.

"Mar isn't well," she started. "You haven't spoken with him much. You two hate each other. You're both idiots, that's what you do. But he isn't well. And he needs to be alone to get better, or at least to off himself with dignity. Besides, staying there, identifying as a criminal would... complicate things. That's him. As to why you?" She laughed. "I need someone. A partner. I never worked well alone. Neither do you. You could do solo ops, but you needed support. So... I hate you. I don't think I will ever like you. But I'm sticking with you."

"Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome."

"You go ahead," he said. "I think I need to take a walk."

"Okay." Kara picked the sack up, and walked away.

He thumbed the compressed pistol in his pocket. He looked at her back. He turned away. He looked at his phone, and opened the message. It linked to a map.

YOUR ARMOR HAS BEEN TRACKED TO THIS LOCATION. YOU'RE WELCOME.

He'd stop by a clothes store first. He'd need to change, anyway.


	20. Chapter 16

The address led him to a bar, on the border between the seedy part of downtown and the nice one. The neon letters above the bar wrote out SCHMIDT'S. The C and the D were flickering, but the M glowed resolutely. The building itself was uncared for, with paint scraping off the outer walls, the windows filthy. A large man with a shaved head stood in the entrance, giving the stinkeye to people passing by.

Evan smiled to the bouncer as he walked in. A huge meaty arm blocked his entrance.

"ID?" The bouncer asked. A slight smile was playing on his face.

"You know, I dropped it in the sewer grate," Evan said. "Let me in, come on."

"No can do."

"Then you mind checking the grate for a second?" Evan asked, then lashed the man's face downwards. With a crack, the bouncer's face slammed against the sidewalk. "You missed it. I'm sorry, hope you don't mind, I'm going to walk in. I'm sure you'll find my ID."

The bar had seven people in it. A bartender and six patrons. Two at the bar, three around one round table, and a sixth alone, reading a book. _The Turner Diaries_. Because of course it was.

"I'd like a Stalingrad," Evan said.

"What's that?" the bartender asked him. He was a stocky man with short hair and a toothpick in his mouth.

"You take some crushed ice, pour a German beer like… I see you have Weihenstephan, pour that on it, and then drown it in proper Russian vodka. You know, get that German taste out of the drink." Evan smiled at him before grabbing his head and smashing it against the bar with one hand. He pulled his pistol out with the other and pointed it at a man seated at the bar, who was in the middle of getting up. "Now, I understand that Bradley Meadows likes to drink here. If he's around here, can someone call him?" He looked around. Everyone was staring at him. The man with the book had a pistol out and aimed at him. "Okay."

Evan lashed the bartender to the man his pistol was pointed at and raised his barriers just as the man with the bullet fired and missed. The other man at the bar had gotten up and raised his chair. Evan ducked to dodge his swing, and swept his leg under the man, toppling him.

"Don't overextend when you hit someone," he said. The man with the pistol missed another shot. "Learn to aim." He ignored the ringing in his ears.

The three men at the round table walked towards him in unison. Evan began to swing his arms, but stopped – He wasn't in his armor. He didn't have the biotic focusers for his whips. Instead, he _charged_. Time froze, for an instant, a moment becoming eternity as Evan transformed into light and passed through the three men to hit the man with the pistol and the terrible aim, transforming back into himself with a blast of force. The man crumpled against the wall, cracking it where he hit.

"So does one of you know where Bradley Meadows is?" he asked. "I'll leave that one conscious."

"He's a fucking cape," one of them muttered.

"No fucking shit he's a fucking cape, Dylan," another answered. "Got any bright fucking ideas?"

"Meadows is in the basement," the first one said. The other two gave him dirty looks. "I'm not dying because fucking Hookwolf pissed off a –"

His words were interrupted by Evan slamming all three of them into the floor with a lash. He walked into the storage room. Bags of chips, barrels of beer, bottles of different liquors and an open trapdoor, with stairs leading down.

Evan walked down to find Hookwolf waiting for him.

Hookwolf was a monster of a man, leaning back on a pool table. Greasy blond locks and an orange beard almost obscured a scarred, angry face. He wore a wool sweater and baggy jeans. His hands, peeking out of his sleeves, looked like slabs of scar tissue. He laughed at the sight of Evan. "I heard the fight upstairs, I imagined someone big and scary. You? You look like I could eat you for dinner."

Evan looked around the basement. Cardboard boxes were stacked one on top of the other. The pool table had balls strewn haphazardly around it, like a game was abandoned in the middle.

"So where's the other player?" Evan asked.

"Upstairs," Hookwolf responded. "Why are you here?"

"Why did you just lie?" There were four stacks of boxes the person could be hiding behind. Where was his armor?

"So you wouldn't notice me," a voice hissed behind him, before a huge pressure hit his barriers around his back. He turned the momentum of the hit into a roll, and lashed a stack of boxes to Hookwolf.

The man in front of him looked more like a convict than a supervillain. Tall, muscular, and pale, in black slacks and chains. The only conceit to superheroism was a blue-white tiger mask on his face.

"Stormtiger!" Evan smiled. "I was worried it would be a threat, like... anyone else, really."

"Did you come to die?" Stormtiger asked.

"Yes. Exactly. I came here to die. Pissing off people who idolize the biggest losers in history was better than shooting myself." The sound of blades clanging together came from behind him, and a moment turned into eternity as Evan turned into light and flew sideways, against the wall. He turned to see Hookwolf had turned into a beast made of chains and blades, and was bearing on where Evan stood a moment ago. Hookwolf scraped against the ceiling as he ran.

"Hey," Evan said. "If you want to bring down the building, let me know. I'd be happy to help." He prepared biotic energy in his hands, extending them towards the two, when a scream pierced his ears. He collapsed to his knees, nausea bubbling up his throat. Through tear-filled eyes, he saw another form walk down the stairs. The form of Stormtiger approached him. He felt his barriers break to a blast of compressed air.

He threw the energy, blasting a hole in the air, twisting reality into a point. A singularity, pulling everyone in the room but him to it. Boxes tumbled, contents spilling out. His armor among them. The scream stopped.

Where reality twisted and spun, Stormtiger was suspended along with a woman in a mask shaped like a birdcage. Cricket. Hookwolf's blades were taut as they attached him to the floor. He gargled out a metallic laugh as he started to crawl across the room in Evan's direction.

When he was directly under the singularity, Evan detonated it. Reality snapped back into place in the blink of an eye, violently displacing everything in the tear. Stormtiger and Cricket slumped where they hit. Hookwolf was driven into the floor. Evan's armor flew to different corners of the room, smacking against the walls. He lashed it to himself, his barrier absorbing the shocks. Dust erupted from the walls and the floor, filling the room with a gritty fog.

Hookwolf pushed himself up. Evan wouldn't get his armor on in time, but his gauntlets, yellow on black on white, were at his feet. He put them on, feeling the biotic channelers in them. He extended his whips, and swished them around. They left scorch marks where they touched the walls. He let them rest on the floor, and smiled at Hookwolf.

"Your move," Evan said.

"Enough!" A voice boomed from the stairs. Kaiser strode down in full metal armor, both sinuous and solid. Once he descended, he looked at both of them. "Stand down, Hookwolf. Phoenix, stop."

"It looks like I'm winning from here," Evan said.

"You said you wanted your armor," Kaiser said. "It's yours. You have it. I was on my way here to get it for you. We're even."

"Even?" Evan laughed. "No, we're not close to _even_ , Max. When I made my offer during the meeting, your response should have been 'yes sir.' Now? I'm going to take something of yours, like you took something of mine. Jared, Bradley, or Melody. Your choice. I'm taking one of them, bundled up all nice and pretty. You have opinions, Bradley?"

Hookwolf had transformed back into his human form. "Fuck you."

"Is that any way to talk, Bradley Meadows?" Evan asked. He pointed at Cricket. "Melody Jurist." At Stormtiger. "Jared O'Grady." At Kaiser. "Maxwell Anders. Your choice. Fight me, lose, I take all of you in, and go after your friends, or let me go, and I take one of your people. I'd prefer Bradley, to be honest, but Melody and Jared are both fine."

"Are you threatening my _identity_?" Kaiser asked him, an angry edge to his tone.

"Yes. You have mine, I have yours. It's mutually assured destruction, except I can survive a nuke. What can you survive, Max?"

"We can kill him, Kaiser," Hookwolf said.

"One more thing," Evan said. "I left the meeting with Salvo. She isn't here right now. Told her I didn't need her help, but that on the off chance I did lose? Maxwell Anders, Kayden Anders, James Fliescher, Jessica and Vanessa Bierman, Bradley Meadows, Jared O'Grady, Melody Jurist… I've got a few more on a list somewhere. She's got those names too, and the cape names they correlate to. If I don't come back, there will be no one to tell her not to act on her names."

The words hung in the air between them, a challenge hanging in between Evan's gaze and the blue eyes peering out from Kaiser's mask.

"We can kill her too," Hookwolf said. "We know what she looks like, I can take Othala and Stormtiger and find her."

Evan threw a lash at the ceiling, bringing down another wave of dust. It creaked. "How stable do you think this place is?"

"We can rescue Stormtiger from the PRT later, Hookwolf," Kaiser said. "Take Cricket, and let's go."

"Kaiser," Hookwolf snarled.

"We leave now, Hookwolf," Kaiser said.

"This isn't over," Hookwolf threatened, before picking Melody up and slinging her over his shoulders. He walked up the stairs.

"Next time I see you, I will kill you. And the race traitor. She showed her face too." Kaiser followed Hookwolf up the stairs.

Evan waited until he was sure they were gone, and waited a little longer. He groaned, and collapsed to the floor. He let himself lie there for another minute before putting his armor on. Breastplate first. Pauldrons, connecting between the gauntlets and the breastplate. Cuisse connected to the breastplate, and greaves connected to the cuisse, folding around his lower legs. Finally, his helmet went back on his head, coloring everything gold before the HUD turned on and corrected the colors.

Stormtiger was still out cold. _Brain damage?_ _He's breathing, but..._ Evan worried for a second before shoving it away. Not his problem. He lifted Stormtiger with his biotics, floating him up the stairs and out of the bar. He dialed 911 on his armor's connection to his phone.

"911, what's your emergency?" An alert male voice came in.

"I'm a cape, I was attacked by Stormtiger of Empire Eighty Eight. He's unconscious now. I'm at Schmidt's, on Basalt." Evan said.

"Do you need medical assistance, sir?" The voice said.

"No, but I think he does. We fought, and I hit him too hard. His breathing seems to be fine, but he's out cold and it's been a few minutes already."

"Who is this?"

"Phoenix."

"Armsmaster is en route. He should be there in two minutes."

He ended the call. He could stay, but... No. Better not. He lifted Stormtiger, leaving him suspended in midair, then threw himself up. Away. He was done here. A _ping_ gave him his next coordinates.

* * *

The rooftop was empty when he arrived. Not an alien robot in sight. Pieces of scorched and broken machinery were scattered on the rooftop, centered around scorch marks.

"I'm here," Evan said. "All alone, waiting for you here."

"I see," Geth said, reappearing next to him. Burnished bronze gleamed in stark contrast to the dingy, desolated surroundings. "Congratulations on retrieving your armor."

"I almost died. If they had called my bluff..."

"You didn't die. You talked them out of attacking. I was watching."

"You were there?"

"From the moment you got the message." Geth's visor widened around its red bulb.

"Then why didn't you help?"

"You didn't need it."

"What would you have done if Kaiser had turned me down? If he had pressed the attack? I don't think I could have beaten Hookwolf. Cricket almost got me." Evan looked into his gauntlets, still dirty after beings stored in a basement, uncared for. "Fucking Cricket almost got me."

"Do you trust me, Evan?"

"What do _you_ think?" The words burst out with a mirthless chuckle.

"I hope you will, by the time this is over." The robot's manner seemed almost offended at his words. "I would have helped you if you had needed it."

"I doubt that," Evan responded. "Mind telling me why you sent me that information?"

"It secured operational parameters," Geth responded. "There were risks posed by a united villain population led by Empire Eighty Eight, and reducing Kaiser's stature would help. I need to remove the cloud of suspicion the heroes have from you and Kara, and while your efforts in this area were imperfect they were a step ahead. Kara would not have been as helpful. She would have been more willing to help, maybe, but your refusal to kill humans made you better suited for making Kaiser look foolish rather than assaulted. Forcing him to part with one of his own harmed him as well. It was a master stroke of vindictiveness. You did well."

"And bombing heroes? Making you out to be public enemy number one?" Evan asked.

"A miscalculation."

"You were that stupid?" He sneered. "You? A geth with thousands of intelligences? The best upgrades the Reapers had?"

"I miscalculated. I did not anticipate Bakuda's rationality. It did not fit the information I had."

"Bad intelligences?"

"Ester Goh. Born in April 25th 1991. Grew up to be a brilliant french horn player, brilliant at math, a true prodigy. Excelled at school, and began to study physics at Cornell, where her natural limits finally caught up to her lack of work ethic. After a semester she was put on academic probation, then she failed at every single subject in a single semester. Threatened to demolish the university, then the home of her electricity professor, then did carry out strikes against the local police stations. Then disappeared. Bakuda showed up in Brockton Bay shortly after, now a loyal servant of a local supervillain named Lung, which lasted three months until Lung ran into Mar and was discorporated. During my own encounter with her, I estimated she was careless, callous, and angry. That she would not care about alienating the heroes, that she would take credit."

"You messed up," Evan said. "So thank you for the tip, robot. I'm going back home."

"I'm on your side, Evan," Geth said, before disappearing.

"I honestly doubt that," Evan said.

 _Where do I hide my armor,_ he thought, before leaping away. He'd figure it out.


End file.
